“On Friday night, you stole the life of an exceptional being, the love of my life, the mother of my son, but you won’t have my hatred. I don’t know who you are and I don’t want to know, you are dead souls. If this god you are so blindly killing for modelled us on him, each bullet in my wife’s body will have been a wound to His heart.
So no, I will not gift you with my hatred. You may well have deserved it, but to answer hate with anger would be giving in to the same ignorance which made you who you are. You want my fear, you want me to look at my fellow citizens with distrust, that I sacrifice my freedom for security. You lose. Player one is still in the game.
I saw her this morning. Finally, after nights and days of waiting. She was as beautiful as the moment she left on Friday night, as beautiful as she was when I fell head over heels in love with her more than 12 years ago. Of course I am devastated with grief, I’ll give you this small victory, but it will be short-lived. I know she’ll accompany us every day and we’ll meet again in this Heaven of free souls that you will never access.
There are two of us, my son and I, but we are stronger than all the armies in the world. As a matter of fact, I have no more time to spare, I have to go to Melvil who is waking up from his nap. He is only17-months old, he is going to snack like he does every day, then we’ll play like we do every day and all his life, this little boy will insult you by being happy and free. Because no, you will not have his hatred either.”
-Written by Antoine Leiris, journalist for France Bleu, who’s lost his wife on November 13 at the Bataclan.
Translated from French by my dear friend Melly Rhody.