Letter to the Afterlife.‘It will be rather impossible, but I would like you to conduct my funeral’ – you told me one day. And it really wasn’t possible. Today when I am looking over the blue sky above Paris, my imagination runs to the stairs of my family home in Zarzecze Jeleniewskie, where together we said the Rosary to the Divine Mercy. Perhaps you heard it for the first time then and often interrupted it showing me the blue skies and the spots of white clouds so characteristic of the Suwalki region. Today you are already looking from the other side. When I met you for the first time in Gawrychruda, in the ‘Heavenly Space’ of the Murawski family, I thought you looked like a prophet. It was you who was waiting for me at the time, someone you never met before, yet we both had the impression that we had known each other for a very long time, like blood brothers. You knew me from the reproductions of my paintings, sculptures, and stained glass windows included in the album The Insatiable Artist. You said at that time that I was your soul mate. I felt the same. I guess it’s very rare that an artist would make publicity for another artist in his own environment. And yet you did. My work was in some ways very dear to you. And I think now that it was a bit for the reason that I was a priest, and that I was not dishonest in my work. I did not pretend to be a saint.  And perhaps because I am a priest, you were extremely honest with me. Some of your works were only seen by me in your lifetime, and you even showed me where you had hidden them. You were strong in stone. I particularly admire the fact that some of your carved faces seem alive and thinking. They have living souls. Thanks to you the stone came alive at some point and stayed alive. It is a pity that I met you so late, because I probably would have liked to assist you in your creation. An artist during the process of creating likes to be alone with his work, even if it is only a stone. But I think you would have let me.  The telephone rang right now… You liked to telephone me often. Once I was quite moved when I found your message on the answering machine: ‘Witek, don’t call me today, I am drunk. You were cool.  Whenever I will look at your works, particularly sculptures, which I touched with my hands, they will remind me of you and our spiritual closeness. Besides, it was me who heard your confession on the hospital bed.  Now you are probably looking at me from the other side of the Parisian sky. Send my best wishes to The Lord from me.

Fr. Witold Urbanowicz,
October, 2018