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For months now, I have wanted to write to you but have not had the courage to do so. I have written pages over the last few months, to try & put across to you what I want to say! This letter is the result.
The following words are the culmination of events that started for me on Wednesday 14th August 1991. I now open my heart to you.
Early in 1991, my mother moved to Lockerbie, and that August my family and I spent a few days on holiday there. I had never been to Lockerbie before, and had only heard of the disaster from media coverage. My mother said we should visit the Garden of Remembrance during our stay.
I must say that I do not find it a morbid pastime wandering through a graveyard, as some might. Who were all these people? What were they like? How did they live? I do not get over-emotional. Rather, curious.
When I reached the memorial a vastly different experience overtook me. This place was different. Mass tragedy. Why? How?
I felt devastated.
I came, a complete stranger to the tragedy.
I left, inecsplicably, a part of it.
I looked at the memorial plaques to the left of the main memorial. I read them all. What love! I
ead the plaques on the right hand side. Never forgotten! I sat on the wooden seat.
And then it happened. The moment that will live with me forever. I was overcome by a feeling of such overwhelming love and warmth. There was a peace, greater than any peace that anyone could experience. An intense feeling that is difficult to convey in words. Not sadness; strangely joyfull! Perfect peace! And a feeling of someone very close by. I turned slowly around. I was staring at the words "Karen Lee Hunt". Why had I missed that plaque on my first viewing? I couldn't move.
I read the poem by Karen. Then I cried.
I was oblivious to anything around me, but only for seconds, until the kids, who had wandered off, were standing very quiet beside me, said "What's the matter, Dad?" I couldn't speak.
My son told my mother later, that something had happened to daddy, because I only whispered when I spoke and I gripped his hand so hard that it hurt him. I thought of Karen for days afterward.
When we arrived back home, I wanted to write a song to the memory of Karen with express intentions of sending it to you, her family. I sat at the piano, and from nothing, I played the tune on the enclosed tape. Although I messed about with it, chopping and changing the accompaniment to get the final version, the main theme just came, without stumbling, without thinking. And as I penned the words, all of a sudden, I realized; Karen knew!
The end is not the end, but the beginning! Karen's poem has given me such renewed faith and inspiration. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for that memorial poem.
And was Karen there? It is my unshakeable belief that she was. I believe her spirit reached out and touched a total stranger. I believe she has let us all know that she is safe and beautiful and at peace in God's Garden of Love. And whenever our time comes to be taken, we will all meet and live again. Together, Forever. In that somewhere. In that beautiful Eternal Garden.
Please accept this song, dedicated to Karen, from a total stranger.
Finally, after all that has happened, and all this time, I kept asking myself this question, "Why did I choose Karen to write a song about; to think about; to be the focal point of the whole disaster? Why, out of two hundred and seventy tragic victims, did I choose Karen?" And the only answer I can come up with is that I did not choose Karen. She chose me, and I can only believe that is the truth.
Please forgive me for opening wounds which may be healing. I had to write to you.
May God bless you, comfort you, and give you courage and strength. Thank you, my friends,
Love,
Richard
 | Jerry Brongo in Jerry's Studio Night Rhythm Productions Rochester, NY USA |
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 | Peggy Campbell The Wonderful Lady who reads Karen's Poem |
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 | Ali Lee and Richard In Ali's Studio Mill Studio Alnwick, England |
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  | Memorial in The Garden of Remembrance Lockerbie, Scotland |
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