Rest in peace
Il est mort depuis deux ans, faute de soins, après plus de 20 ans passés dans le couloir de la mort en Arizona. Il est mort de la cruauté des humains envers leurs propres semblables. J'ai beaucoup appris de lui, de ce qui fait le lien entre les humains et du plaisir du partage, même à des milliers de kilomètres, même sans jamais pouvoir se parler en direct, même sans avoir jamais entendu le son de nos voix...
The value of friendship
When I decided to reach out to the outside world and find some friends, it was back in 1986. I wrote to a number of colleges, pen pal organisations, church groups, just about anyone who would hear me. I received some answers. Believe it or not, I still have some of the friends I made 13 years ago. That in itself says a lot about friendships.
Over the years I have become a writer and have attracted additional friendships. This simple practice of letter writing is lost on many people. Before prison, I was like many others, I did not write many letters and the mail just brought bills to be paid. The telephone had supplanted the mail. It is not easy to find people who care to write letters these days. The friendships I have developed through letters have taught me so much. The letters from my friends are my life. They enable me to endure this cruel and miserable existence. I see mayhem and insanity around me every day of my life. Men who have no focus, no support, no reason to live. Most engage in watching mind-numbing and senseless TV comedies or other such programs, or they argue and exchange anger with each other. All this in response to the pressure of the loneliness of death row.
I live for my letters with news from my
friends. They have become my extended family. They are the root system
that keeps me anchored and in touch with reality. Certainly a reason for
living when little else remains. A Yin and Yang surely exist here. It leads
me to believe that perhaps there is more to life than all the pain and suffering.
After all, there is a dichotomy here. On the one hand, life has dealt
me a death blow, taken all I have, and replaced it with pain and loneliness.
A life with little meaning and less
value. A cul-de-sac of dead ends, worry and frustration. But all is changed
due to the unflappable spirit and love of total strangers.
Who are these people? Why do they care
about me, a person branded as the
"worst of the worst", a blight on society,
a seemingly worthless individual? Some would callously call these friends
"do gooders", or "bleeding hearts". However, this is not so - the truth
lies beneath the surface. My friends have become the essence of life to me.
The meaning of life. For life without them would be totally meaningless.
I am certain that I would have pulled the plug on this cruel hoax called life
a long time ago were it not for my friends.
Bent as it would appear to be solely on revenge, what this uncaring society has done by warehousing me and dismissing me as worthless has been countered by my friends, who have restored my faith with love. Unconditional love. I liken my friends to doves of peace dropping seeds of love and support at random. These seeds take root in the harshest of environments, even here in the desert. The roots spread like daisy chains and anchor me to the world. So strong are these roots that they withstand the constant tugging of those who see me as a mere weed in their garden and desire only to eliminate me. Weeds have no purpose and are killed. My life has been nurtured by my friendships. How much strength I get to face this adversity is amazing. The cumulative effect of my friends is that I have been taught the real meaning of brotherhood and love. Rather than be left to bemoan the cold reality of my world on death row, and the hardships it bestows on me daily, I consider myself to be an extraordinarily fortunate and wealthy man. How amazing to find that love and compassion can flourish even in this harsh desert wasteland! Although hatred and pain will always exist, I have found that there is an antidote, that being the caring and love that arrives in the form of letters that float through these prison walls like magic, carrying a drug stronger than the poison of hate. You who write to me have given me hope and strength, you have taught me the meaning of true friendship and humanity. You have restored what society has tried to take from me. It is not the length of life that matters, but rather the richness and quality of life. Thanks to you, my friends, I have the knowledge that I have worth and value as a human being.
Richard Rossi