Dear Axel, I don't know if this letter will give you a reason to clear the dust of battle from your body and return to us. We buried our father yesterday, he couldn't survive the fever that hit him. It was strong this time, and the town doctor didn't carry any spare lives in his bag for my father.

He mentioned your name frequently among us. Everyone tried to understand what he was attempting to convey, and we could only gather scattered words preceding your name: "I miss my son," at which point I realized that the sacrifices you made for the family since your youth, and abandoning your dream of forming a family to support us, made my father see us as a mirage in our presence, and see you as a tangible reality in your absence.