Hey, I'm part of the fandom of the... weirder side of your restaurant. I just want you to know that... we've learned a lot of lessons form the similar fandom of that other restaurant. The false accusations, the endless scrabble for answers, the whole mess always coming b-- ...we know better than that. Your restaurant's story isn't some puzzle to be solved, whether or not it ever will be. It's a story to be lived. We care about you, and we'll always support you.
Anonymous, there are a few more words I'd like to say to you about this, if you don't mind.
First, I'd like to thank you again for concerning yourselves for us and our feelings. We certainly do have them, and sometimes, it's true, they feel as though they may be getting disregarded. Not too often, really! We don't blame the world for not paying us much mind. Sometimes we even feel entombed here in this place. And how often does anyone really visit a grave?
Next I suppose I'd like to offer a gentle suggestion. It might seem strange of me to say, given that I agree with you, but: try not to be too hard on those folks who get fanatical about the lurid aspects of what happened to us - or what happened to them. To those others, in that other place (Truth be told, most of why we don't like to talk about them is out of respect. They aren't here to speak for themselves, and if what happened to them is anything like what happened here, then I wouldn't dare speak for them).
I won't say they're wrong to do that, but I certainly understand why it seems uncaring. And I'm aware there are some people who fully trivialize and reduce a terrible tragedy to a series of puzzles that are fun and exciting to figure out.
Truth is, Anonymous, we're all flawed people. We all have blind spots, and sometimes when you're so distant from a situation, it almost makes you blind to its reality. To its gravity. And, well... a lot of them are youngsters.
I can speak from experience: when you're a youngster, you kind of feel invincible. Like nothing terrible and tragic could ever happen to you. Like nothing terrible and tragic is really real. Everything is kind of a fun puzzle to figure out... until something terrible and tragic stops you right in your tracks.
But if it isn't forever, then you get to grow. And learn from it. It shatters your armor. It teaches you your vulnerability. It teaches you the vulnerability of others. And then you learn empathy.
What I'm saying is, a lot of them are youngsters. Whether they're young in years or just in spirit. They have a chance to learn. And you can help them grow! We all can.
I hope you'll forgive me for writing you a novel - I suppose I had some of this to get off my chest for a while. Valerie slugged me in the shoulder three times as I was writing this out. She says she's afraid I'm being overbearing towards you. But, I don't know if I agree with that (she also called me a Total Dad and I'd disagree with that too but I have never won that argument). You seem like you might be somebody who would take this in the spirit it's written - one of sharing a common curiosity. About how people behave. About ourselves.
Thank you so much for making it through all of that. You reached out from the heart, so I thought it best to speak from the heart myself.
I hope you'll continue to enjoy living this story with us - with me. I know the early parts of it have a lot of tragedy in them, but I remain ever hopeful that it will get happier. Miracles have happened before, after all! I consider my life one of them.
Take care out there, Anonymous.