Musical Reflections by #Paul #Caracristi

My mother once told me a story that has stayed with me all my life, a story so fragile and yet so powerful that even now it brings tears to my eyes. It was the early 1940s, the dark years of the war, when childhood was supposed to be about small joys and laughter, but was instead shadowed by fear, hunger, illness and death.
Her little sister, Ines (ee-NEHS), was just five or six years old. A child full of life, with bright eyes and the sweetness only innocence can carry. But one day she fell sick, struck by a fever that refused to let go. In those days, before antibiotics were within reach, such an illness could quickly become a death sentence. My mother, herself only a young teenager, could do little but watch and hope as her sister lay in bed, burning with fever.
She told me of one moment, one that etched itself into her heart forever. She had gone to Ines’s side to check on her, perhaps to whisper some words of comfort, perhaps simply to be there. And then, Ines opened her eyes. They were shiny and filled with pain, but still they carried that spark of trust. With a trembling, broken voice, she said the words that still echo through the decades:
Tata… it hurts so much. Please help me. It hurts so much, Tata. Please…
I cannot begin to imagine the helplessness my mother must have felt in that moment. To be called upon as Tata, the loving sister, the protector, the one a child turns to when the world is unbearable, and to know that nothing could be done. No remedy, no medicine, no arms strong enough to chase away the suffering. Only love, and love alone, to offer in the face of the inevitable.
That memory, passed down to me, breaks my heart every time I think of it. Not only because of the suffering of a little girl who should have had her whole life ahead of her, but also because of the depth of the bond between sisters, expressed in that single word: Tata. A word so simple, yet carrying in it all the weight of trust, affection, and desperate need.
It serves as a poignant reminder of how fragile life is, and how thin the line between joy and loss can be. But it is also a reminder of the beauty of love, love that does not vanish even when faced with powerlessness, love that endures through memory, love that keeps Ines alive in the telling of her story.
When I think of that moment, I realize that words, however small, can hold an entire world. Tata was not just a word. It was a plea, a confession of love, a reaching out from one soul to another. And though Ines could not be saved, her voice, her eyes, her trust live on, in my mother’s memory, now in mine, and now in yours.
I have composed a musical reflection of that particular moment. It carries a Gregorian chant quality, which evokes the depth of feelings and emotions embedded in that memory. I hope it conveys not just the sorrow of the moment, but also the tenderness, love, and fragile beauty of Ines’s plea.

"There is no variety without differences, nor hope without intentions, there is no justice without compassion nor love without humility, but there is always truth in understanding."

“沒有差異就沒有多樣性，沒有意圖就沒有希望，沒有同情心就沒有正義，沒有謙卑就沒有愛，但是在理解中總有真理。”