Dear Tyler and Damion, 

I am writing this letter to you, my sons, in hopes of one day that my words will find you.  The truth is, I have not seen you boys in many years.  Me and your mom lost custody of you due to our drug addiction and the abusive relationship we were in.  These past ten years have been filled with pain, loss, and sorrow.  There has not been a day that has gone by that you’re not thought of and missed.  You have brothers and sisters that you have not met; they always ask about you.  Me and your mother are not together anymore but we remain friends.  We share a common dream that one day we will be reunited with you boys.  It’s important for me that you both know you never did anything wrong.  You were perfect, beautiful babies who were loved by everybody who met you.  I’m sorry I failed you as a father.  I have grown up since then and I pray that one day we will be reunited and my life will once again be complete. You boys are the missing piece.  I love you forever and always. 

Love always,
Daddy, age 35

Dear you,

We dated for almost two years. I wanted you so badly, just like I’ve
wanted many things in life. And as is human nature, once I had you I
wanted more. I think I knew our relationship was deteriorating that day
when we were lying in bed and you got really mad because I flinched when
you touched me. It wasn’t the flinching that bothered you, it was that you
knew I was scared of you. I remember you got up and didn’t talk to me for
a long time, and I was really scared. I knew I should leave, but I was
scared to be alone.

The night that you raped me will always stick out in my mind, even though
I think you maybe have pushed it out of your mind by now. I always
wondered why you didn’t kill me when you had the chance. I know now that
it is because I was put here to do great things. I fell off the path but I
am going to be successful. You knew I was hurt as a child and you hurt me
too, but it’s okay. I forgive you. I just want you to know that.

I was talking to a boy and I told him about you. He was shocked that I
don’t hate you, and I really don’t. This life is too short to be full of
hate, and I want you to know that. You were always so angry. Don’t be. He
was shocked that I could ever forgive you. I will never forget it, because
you hurt me deeply. I don’t trust anyone. But I want you to know that I am
working towards being happy and I want you to do the same. I’m sorry about
the way things ended and I want to tell you this in person but it’s just
not safe.

Please do something good with your life. You owe it to yourself. Please be
happy. I am.

-Ellen, Age 18

Dear Grandpa,

Even though I haven’t met you, I bet you were a loving father.  I wish I ventured on your journey to freedom with you when you escaped from the communists in Vietnam.  We could have visited all the different countries that rejected you because they weren’t accepting refugees.  I would be able to see the Indonesian ocean guards, who guarded their land and refused to let your boat dock.  I would have also witnessed all the food, houses, and games in Malaysia, where you sought your refuge.

At the last minute of your escape from Vietnam, why did you have to abandon your family?  My mom told me that you had an argument with Grandma, who wanted you to leave your mistress.  She was destroying your relationship.  But you didn’t listen to Grandma; instead, you left your family.  Grandma had to take care of the children herself.  I feel sad knowing you left your wife and children behind.  If you had stayed with your family, my mom wouldn’t have missed you nor would she feel incomplete.

My mom really misses you now that you’re gone.  You visited my mom in her dreams.  I wish you could visit me in my dreams as well.  When you visit me, you could explain to me why you did the things you did to your family.  In my dreams, we could get to know each other and I could keep you company.  Please come to me in my dreams.

I love you.

Love,

Jason, age 10

Dear Tim,

I don’t believe there is a day that goes by that I do not think of you. These past years have been filled with discoveries, specifically my journey to awareness. What strikes me now is how unaware I was for so many years—all the years of your life. All it takes is the experimental drinking that all teens do; you crossed the line and couldn’t stop. I wish I had known about these things and offered to help. You were so often alone—working summer jobs, living in the horrible room upstairs in Metuchen, staying on Cape Cod when we moved, working in Alabama—away from all of us. It pains me to know how much you must have suffered. We all loved you—we just didn’t do enough. I deeply wish I knew enough then to have given you what you needed and deserved.

Family secrets just kill our souls.

I love you, Tim. You are with me always.

Love,

Mom, age 73

To my ex-husband, 

Four and half years ago, I left you, my husband of almost 22 years. We met when I was 15 and you were 20. Two years later we got married. When I was 22 we had our first child, a girl.  Over the course of the next 15 years we had 5 more children. They are beautiful.

You were not a nice person.  You were controlling and manipulative and intimidating. You were hurtful with your words, your intentions and your hands.  After many years of this abuse, the kids and I left. Who knew how great life could be when not held down by absolute fear? 

In these last 4 years I have discovered many things about the world, about my kids and about myself.  And God help me, but the person I want to thank most for this amazing second chance at life is you. 

If it hadn’t been for you, I never would have moved to my new paradise. I would have never learned to drive in the snow or figured out how to put chains on my car tires—all by myself! I would not have had the opportunity to open my own bank account, fill it and empty it all in the same day. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have been able to have the “slumber parties” I have with the kids every so often—all of us piled in my bed watching movies together and just being with each other.  Our son would never have experienced the joy of football or baseball at such a young age, if at all.  Our daughter may never have fully blossomed into the beautiful little 7 year old that she’s become. 

If not for the way you did things, our kids may not have been as compassionate to others as they are. They all seem to have a gift for finding the wounded and lonely and befriending them, showing them that in the end, life can be ok.  I have found that as a mother, there is no greater compliment a child can give than by bringing home a friend and overhearing a conversation that goes something like “…don’t worry, my mom will like you, and you’ll be ok here.” In our previous life, that scenario would never have taken place because they didn’t know if things would be ok for them, much less assure someone else that all would be well. 

In the last 4 years I’ve learned to accept help in every conceivable way, from both strangers and friends. I’ve learned  that sometimes the best way to move forward is to let go of what’s holding me back and just go with the flow.  I’ve also learned that to keep moving forward, one must give back as they have received.  That’s how one becomes a part of a community and that’s how everyone makes forward moving progress. 

I’ve learned that happiness is my choice, not anyone else’s.  People that like to manipulate others think they control the feelings that other people have.  That’s only true if you let the manipulator have their way.  In the end, you decide your emotional place.  That’s not to say that someone else’s actions won’t make you feel sad or mad or disappointed, but in the end it’s up to you how you’re going to handle your overall emotional well-being. I’ve also learned that living a life without fear is a wonderful thing. Going out to dinner with a girlfriend is a gift of immeasurable portion.  Taking our child to a play is priceless. Listening to our kids buzz about a recent concert they’ve attended is music to my ears.  Going to my job so that I can provide for our kids (even though I’d spent the last 15 years as a stay at home mom that homeschooled our kids) and watch them gain strength and independence is an experience I wouldn’t trade for the world. 

So please don’t think I’m crazy for wanting to send you a thank you note from time to time. If it hadn’t been for you I would not be the person I am today.  While you spent the better part of over 20 years trying to make sure I was nothing, all you really accomplished was creating a person of resilience and optimism. And while I’d like to think that I have truly moved on from my past, I don’t ever want to forget it.  I want to remember what it was like so that I never, in any way, revert back to that kind of life.  My decisions are not always perfect.  I have made mistakes, some bigger than others. But at the end of the day no one gets hurt. I just learn and try again the next day. 

So ex-husband of mine, thank you. Thank you for the blessing of our children—you have absolutely no idea what you’re missing.  Thank you for teaching me that controlling people does not equal happiness and contentment for anyone.  Thank you for showing me that my happy is inside of me and not at the mercy of others. Thank you for all the hard work you demanded of me, because all of that experience sure has come in handy!  And more than anything, thank you for putting me in a position of having to choose whether I would be afraid of you for the rest of my life or break out of that cycle and just LIVE. While I am cautious in my life and will never trust you, I refuse to lose one more minute of sleep over you.  I refuse to hide in my house because of you and I refuse to be yanked around by your threats anymore.  You are not nice and I don’t have to play with you anymore.  I don’t think you have any idea what you created, but I’m sure it’s not what you expected.  I only hope I was able to do as much for you as you have done for us. 

Sincerely,

Your ex-wife, age 42

Papa Grande, 

It’s been too long since I wrote something for you.

I never thanked you for all the advice and everything we learned together. I’m sorry I never visit you but you know you are in my heart and soul from the morning coffee to our night tea. 

Each morning I stare at your favorite armchair and I keep wondering what made that place so special for you. I sit there every once in a while and keep looking through the same window, trying to evoke all the thoughts you left lingering. As hard as I try, I can only feel your absence and your deep voice saying “check-mate” in front of an old chess board that represented my childhood and your wisdom. 

I love you, please keep the chess ready for when I there. Then we will have all the time to finish our last game that still sits at your study, gathering dust, longing and memories.

Your grandson.

Germán - 26

Dear Anna,

From your experience of reading books and articles and watching television, most people look at suicide and believe it is an act of selfishness. Sending this letter to you is one of your realizations. You refused to go to any kind of therapy because you thought you didn’t need it. You’re so young. You don’t understand that you have your whole life. You have over 70 years left of your life, and that doesn’t mean anything to you? You’re stupid. You’re stupid for thinking that nobody loved you. You’re stupid for thinking that it would be better for your family. You’re stupid for rejecting therapy. You’re stupid for not telling anyone. I’m sending this to explain to myself (you) how that would impact the things you leave behind…

Your mother and father. How could they live? After everything both of them have done for you. After all the work and money and love they gave to you. They built you to be a fine young woman who received more love than she deserved. Imagine how they would react. Imagine how they would cry for you. No matter how much you hurt and how much you hate, I know that you’re heart isn’t dark. I know that because I’m you. You love your family so much more than you could understand. Seeing your parents hurt like that is more than you would ever know.

Your sister and brother. How could Ellen move on? You’re her younger sister. She would have guilt on her shoulders forever. You know how she gets. She would never forgive herself even though she had no power over anything. She would feel as if it was all her fault. And Evan, what would he do with himself? He waits forever for you to come home from boarding school, just to hug you and hang out with you. And what about Adam? You know he loves you. You know it. Even though everything that has happened, he still loves you. That should be enough. I don’t need to get into the details of his hurt that he would possess if anything happened to you. His time at Hill would never be the same. He wouldn’t be able to move on.

Which brings me to another point. Your future. You go to a private boarding school that famous people’s children went to. How can you be unhappy some people would ask? You’re selfish. You take things for granted, it’s true. You don’t understand what you have going for you. Your future is so bright. YOU are so bright. Take a look back on what you have. Look at who you have and then ask yourself, “Why would I want to end this all? Why would I want to leave my family, my friends, and my future here?” Every time you get into your feelings and cut deeper into your thoughts, stop. Stop crying, and think about your family. Read this letter that I wrote to you- myself.

Listen to yourself and your family. Go to therapy. You won’t believe how much it helps. Know that people love you. People who barely know you love you. Do it for Ryan. He wouldn’t understand. You have never seen him cry before, and you don’t want the first time to be because of you. He is getting worse and worse with his Down Syndrome and his new diseases, and he needs you to be here. Don’t leave everyone behind clueless. Stay here. You love them, and they love you.

Thanks,
You/Anna , age 15

Dear Grammy, 

There is a song sung by Mackenzie Phillips in a show called “So Weird”. The song is called “The Rock”. I listened to it today and started thinking of you. I grew up with you, living with you and laughing with you. How many times did we laugh? How many times did we cry? It has been almost two years since you died. Sometimes it feels like yesterday, and other times I find it hard to remember you. Is that okay? We shared a house with mom for 13 years. Now this house seems so empty without you. There are some things my Grammy, things I never got to tell you.

You challenged me, hurt me sometimes. You also gave me two of the greatest gifts of my life. You gave me my beautiful and strong mother. I would be nothing without her. You also gave me a history and a passion. Did I ever tell you that you are why I want to teach? Why I want to inspire others to have a passion for history? I don’t think I did. Maybe now you can know. I am so sorry. I am sorry I never told you how you held me up sometimes, how you kept me sane. I am sorry I never told you that you were an amazing grammy. We are so lucky all three generations of us who got to know you.
That last week, you told me that you didn’t know why you had to die. I lied and told you I did. Some days I don’t understand. Then I see all of the young people who die, friends of mine and non-friends alike. I bet you are being a great Grammy to them. I feel you, as I write this letter. I guess you know that I am sorry and that I miss you? I really do.

Okay, last thing. Thank you so much for teaching me to be strong and to know how to think for myself. Thank you for showing me that being classy doesn’t mean being a snob. You showed me that it is okay to be angry, and that it is hard to show your feelings. Most of all, you taught me to love with my entire being because that is what you did. You loved us all with a passion that no one can surpass. Thank you and I miss you my Grammy. 

Love, 

J, age 20

Dear Josh, 

I look for you every day.  I know that is so stupid, and I end up depressed and angry at myself for even looking.  I check MySpace.  I search Facebook.  I google your name.  Who knew so many people have your name.  Sometimes I think I’ve gotten lucky, until I enlarge the picture, and its not you.  Again.
 

I miss you every day.  So long now, without a word.  I know I was harsh with you at the end.  I was so tired.  Tired of bailing you out of trouble, tired of waiting to see you at the jail, tired of mailing money to your commissary account, tired of you lying, tired of you sneaking out of the house.  I was tired of being afraid to come home, and tired of being afraid to leave.  I was tired, but I never stopped loving you, and believing you could be someone great.

 

When it rains, I wonder and pray that you are somewhere dry, and warm, and have your belly full.  I pray that you know I love you.  That I miss you.  That I am lonely without you. 
  I hide sadness at Christmas because you aren’t there.  That I don’t even have an address where I can send a card.  I don’t have a phone number.  Your old e-mail address has been returning my letters for years.  It says the account no longer exists.  I have you’re last e-mail saved, and I read it often.

 

I wonder…do you think of me at all?  Do you do something, and then suddenly remember that I taught you how to do that…or see a book, and remember me reading it at home?  Do you see someone with a similar build, or a similar hair cut, and think and hope for just a second that its me?  I have gray in my hair now.  I blame you and your brother for every silvery strand.  I look for you at the grocery store, at the gas station…everywhere.  I know its stupid, last I heard from you, you were 500 miles away.  So many miles and years.

 

I lay in my bed at night, and I sometimes sob with missing you.  I say a prayer for your happiness and health every night of my life, and I look for you.  I miss you.  I love you.  You forgot to take your sandals when you slipped away that night.  I have them in a box under my bed.  I have your baseball glove too.  I have some pictures of you taken in the yard, and one of you on that ugly sofa, curled up with the cat.  You are frozen in time for me.  But times moves on, leaving silver tracks through my hair, and lines on my face like roads on a map.  All of the Indiana cats have died.  Bashful died in my arms last Winter.  I have a little dog now, believe it or not.  I still have the old Rabbit convertible.  I drive it all summer. Its 26 years old, and still going strong. The silver Cadillac died four years ago.  I have a gold one now.  Mamaw Lucy and Papaw Dennis bought the house…I live a few miles down the main road in a rental, and will be moving back to Indiana this year. Papaw Dennis survived throat cancer. I will look harder for you there, knowing that’s where you were last.  I will always look for you.
 

I need you to remember…a Father’s love is like a river.  It’s deep and calm and steady sometimes, and sometimes its a raging rapids…but it doesn’t ever STOP.  I guess I’ll keep praying, and I will always look for you.

Michael

Dear Christopher Chandler,

It is hard to even know where to begin. Should I start by talking about how we met so many years ago, about how the distance between us grew until it was unreachable, or about how you were taken from everyone that loved you?

In eighth grade I was a terribly shy girl. I didn’t have many (any) friends, I flew under the radar, and I was miserable. When you’re in middle school the only thing that matters is whether you have friends or not. I was practically a leper; no one would talk to me. That all changed in science class when you wanted to sit next to me, when you talked to me, when you changed my life. I know that it started because you thought I was smart and because you wanted someone to do your work for you but as we changed projects and changed seats and moved around the classroom, we became friends. And you, you were so popular, so outgoing, everyone loved you. When you became my friend people started talking to me. I wasn’t a social outcast. Over the course of the year I developed social skills and friends who I cherish still, to this day. I don’t think you knew what you were doing, or ever realized how you had changed my life.

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