[music: Schubert’s Death and the Maiden ]
My father later wrote–on one of his signature postcards–in all seriousness, “If you move to Greece, I guess we’ll see you once every ten years.” I was 22 years old.
He expressed neither sadness nor regret. Robert did not express emotion. Never.
He was always reserved and aloof. Neither joy nor despair ever dared to cross his face. His emotional armor was impenetrable.
But what was truly in his heart?
I never found out…not even after his death.