Dear Lin Manuel, what to say to you...

I can't remember how I first came across Hamilton. It was on YouTube and may have been the Tony opening which made me curious. Over here in the UK, it didn't have the same buzz around it at the time, if any. I found videos of the songs performed at the White House to the Obamas and I became slightly obsessed. I registered for the pre-sale list for the UK show and listened to the soundtrack on repeat. I discovered there are few things as sweet as getting Lafayette's parts in Guns and Ships down for the first time.

A few months later, I got the date when the tickets went on sale and a while after that, I bought my ticket. It was for the 99th UK performance and would be a few weeks after my 40th birthday. I booked everything I needed to for the weekend and started to countdown, even though it was over a year away at that point.

I was going to see the Saturday matinee and on the Thursday before, during my lunch hour, I noticed I had a lot of messages from some online friends of my oldest son. They said that he had contacted them to say he was going to take his own life and they hadn't been able to contact him since. There was also a message from my son to me saying simply, "I love you". I left school, where I work, called an ambulance and made my way to where he was living. He was 20 and not living at home.
The hour I was waiting for the ambulance outside his house was like no other. The pacing, the crying, the banging on the door. What happened after they did arrive was no better. He had taken an overdose and was conscious but the hours spent in the hospital as he clawed at himself and sobbed with anger and disappointment that it hadn't worked were agonising to watch. He had to stay in overnight and I drove home, still in shock, to update my husband (his stepdad). 

The next day, he was still extremely low. The cigarette burns up his arms I had seen for the first time the day before but were just as horrifying to see the second time. He was referred for urgent mental heath support (we had been fighting for this for years before) and he was going to be discharged that evening. The evening I was due to travel down to London to see Hamilton. It didn't seem as important obviously but turned out to be what we needed. Without being able to bring home (his two younger siblings couldn't have seen him in that state) and not wanting to leave him, I put him in the car and just drove. I had a hotel booked for just me in London so I contacted them and asked them to change it to a twin room, which we did. 

I remember so many details of that drive. He was huddled up in the front, leant forward onto a pillow, dozing on and off and just looking so unbearably vulnerable. I was trying not to cry, the reality of what had happened beginning to sink in. It started to snow and It's Quiet Uptown came on. There had never been words which summed up how I was feeling as much as those opening lines did at that moment. I started to cry harder and turned the song off before I woke him. We spent that night and the next morning in just quiet; him sleeping as and when he could. He settled and began to talk a little. I left him in the afternoon to watch the production, both of us agreeing that a few hours of distraction would be good for me, and a few hours alone would be good for him. I don't need to tell you how incredible I found it, just as 3 million people (congrats!) have already told you. I was completely lost in the performance. Until It's Quiet Uptown came on, and then I remembered.

So, why am I telling you all this? I just want you to know the story of how one person was feeling as they heard the perfect words - your words - for their feelings at that moment. It's made me wonder how many other stories there are like mine too. Not in content, but in terms of how your words are telling a little part of their story too. One day I'll go and see it again, and I'm already curious which parts will be particularly relevant then.

So, thank you and thank you and thank you. Those words will always break my heart and fix it at the same time. As for my child, they have recently announced that they are transgender and have never been happier. An unusual turn of events but a good one! I only want for my children to be happy and they are.

One last thing. I like to think I'm quite a nice person and try to be kind and understanding and so on, and I'm a Slytherin, just like you. I often wonder what it is about people like us that put us there. Then, I saw the interview where you said about how you got out of summer camp by faking a back injury. When I was a teenager, my mum caught me at home when I should have been at school. I faked stomach pains so badly (or so well, it could be argued) that I was taken into hospital and had my appendix taken out. I guess it's things like that, huh?

With much love, thanks and admiration,
Melissa