The Things You Would Have Said
Month
Dear JPL,
It has been five years since I have seen you, yet not a day goes by the I don’t think of you. My life is still surrounded by things you gave me and often a word, a scent, or name brings you to mind. You loved me unconditionally for so many years, waiting patiently for me to raise my children, settled in with a new job, remodel my house…excuse after excuse, you waited for me. Until the day came and you had to move on. I thought you’d be back in few months. But this time was different and you were gone.
Now, these years later my life is full. I have many friends, a nice man to spend time with a job that I love. My children are grown with wonderful lives that often include me. But… how I miss you. You were so good to me. We had so many happy memories. Yet, I thought someone better would come along. You were right there in front of me and I was too busy to see you. I worried that my kids didn’t like you…They laugh now when I tell them that. My daughter says, “We were just kids…you should have married him if you loved him”. I thought you didn’t have enough retirement saved. We would have been fine. I thought because you were Lutheran, and I was not, would be a problem. You gave me the freedom to believe as I wanted, which actually caused some good discussion. I am so sorry that I took you for granted, that I pushed you away.
You were the love that happens once in a lifetime. My love for you will always be hidden in my heart.
JAJ, age 55
Hello my son,
I know that you’re listening to me, and I know that you’re watching and that you understand what I’m writing to you. Look son, maybe this seems a little absurd, but I always wanted to talk to you. So many of these nights, you are here in my dreams. I see your face, your brilliant, gorgeous little eyes, and your beautiful little body that now is just four years old. I know that when you’re in my dreams, it’s because you understand this pain that I carry inside myself, this suffering, this anguish for no longer having you in my arms. For not seeing you grow up, for not being able to hug you and tell you that I love you with all my heart.
Dear Miles,
Thank you for being a great friend. I never said anything like, “Great job” or “You’re the best, pal” and I really regret not saying those things when they needed to be said.
With no doubt you are the greatest best friend I could have ever wished for. I wish that I didn’t move away from Washington to go live in Oregon but, well, things happen for a reason…right?
As I close this letter, I have one last thing I want to say to you, Miles. You have talents that few people have: you have a vast amount of knowledge, you can draw extremely well, and you can write your name neatly with your feet. So use them wisely.
Sincerely,
Sean, age 11
Dearest Rabbi Stone,
I used to be in love with my Judaism. I loved learning Torah from you. I loved Hashem1, Torah and the commandments so, so dearly. My rebbi2, you set my soul on fire with wonder and delight. I was to be a servant of G-d for the rest of my life. Your class, my Judaism: It rocked my world.
Dear Peter,
Hope you remember me. I haven’t seen you in a long time. I should have written this thank you letter many years ago. Yes, a thank you letter.
We met when I was eighteen and you were twenty-eight. WWII had just ended and you returned–the handsome uncle of my best friend. I had heard so much about Peter. I never dreamed you’d come home and pay so much attention to me–calling, dating, romancing. There was only one thing wrong: we didn’t really like one another. We were bored all the time. I tried to drag you to your family get togethers for entertainment. You wanted to be alone and talk about how old you were and how much time you had wasted.
Dear Sierra,
I wanted to tell you that I like when you offer to do something with me because sometimes big sisters don’t want to play with their younger sisters. Also, I wanted to say thank you because when you do that, you make me feel very lucky and special.
Sincerely,
Zoe, age 9
Dear Leo,
I think I have more dreams with you in them than any other identifiable person I know. Even though we parted on good terms, and even though our communications are now limited to twice-a-year how-are-yous for the last ten years, you’re still the face in my dreams that won’t go away.
I’m not sure why. We didn’t have a particularly outstanding friendship, and they usually aren’t happy dreams. In my few fantastical adventure dreams, I work alone or with strangers. Most of my dreams are themeless and neutral, or very unhappy. It’s always in these lattermost dreams that you are present.
You’re also the only friend of mine in my dreams who always dies.
This worries me.
Sweetie,
Forty years ago, I made a very difficult decision, one which I have regretted to this day. You see, your daddy and I were having problems, and a child was more than he could handle. So, to keep him happy, I terminated my pregnancy and gave up my chance to see you grow. I am not proud of that decision. In fact, it has brought me a lot of sadness over the years. I would have liked to send you off to school, to heal your bumps and bruises, to see you graduate, to love any grandchildren you might have given me. I would have liked to be involved in your life.
I am writing to let you know that you have two brothers, one sister, three nieces, and a wonderful new daddy who would have loved you just as much as he does his other three children. If I hadn’t been so immature, foolish, and selfish you would have known love your whole life through. You would have known what it was like to play with your siblings and to argue with them too. You would have known what it meant to be in a family that is committed to each other - a family who would sacrifice all to help one another. But, you weren’t given that chance and for that I am so sorry. I hope you can forgive me and understand that if I had it to do all over again, you would have made your appearance into this world and you would have made your mark here as well.
I love you darling.
Please forgive me,
Mommy, age 64
Dear Mother,
It has been a long time since I have seen you alive. I hope life for you in heaven has been all of what you hoped it would be. I hope you are having an awesome time with all of our family members who have died before me. I have often wondered what heaven is like this time of year.
I am doing okay these days. I have a few things I need to say to you.
First of all, I want you to know that I am no longer angry with you for abusing me when I was a little boy. I want you to know that you are so forgiven. It must have been extremely tough for you trying to take care of five kids with no support from my father. You were right when you told me that I will understand what you were going through once I grew up.
Dear Grandma,
I love you, but then you know that. I still think you know it, even though you don’t seem to totally know who I am. You still light up, even if for a brief moment, when I walk in and greet you. Your face still smiles when I give you a hug. The tears still well up when we have to say goodbye. There is something in you that realizes I am someone who loves you and whom you love back.
When you walk me to the door and watch me leave, with my three little boys, I get that choked up feeling, that tightening in the back of my throat.
Still, if you could have just one day of pure clarity, there is so much I would tell you.
Dear Karen,
I remember one sunny day in September when I was having trouble getting down a heavy, blue metal chair for my table group. You helped me get it down from on top of the desk. I appreciated it so much and I never said thank you.
Much thanks,
MEC, age 10
P.S. I like your name because, in my opinion, it rolls off the tongue very nicely.
Dear Cutie Pie,
I’m so sorry I didn’t go into the back of the animal hospital with the veterinarian and hold you while they put you to sleep.
I can’t remember exactly what Mother said. I know she thought we should stay in the waiting room, not insist that we go behind those big, white doors where they took you. But I was a teenager. I should have tried to stand up to her.
I can’t remember if veterinarians at that time were open to families choosing to be with their pets when they were euthanized. They are now.
What I can clearly remember after half a century is your face. You looked right at me, your eyes terrified as you were carried away from us. You must have felt so betrayed.
Dear David,
You were my first love, and my only boyfriend all through school. We were inseparable as we laughed at things no one else understood. We traced “I love you” on each others palms during class and planned for our getaway to Hawaii. I guess everyone thought we would marry one day. We thought so too.
Dear Jerkface,
I’ve gotten over it; at least I think I have. It’s taken a really long time and numerous failed relationships to understand what happened. I think you should know that I wish I had called the police. I was scared, so you got lucky.
But here’s the kicker—I still think about you. I think about what it could have been like if you hadn’t done that. I think about it but then I laugh.
Because even afterwards, when I’d see you in the neighborhood, it seems you didn’t really notice, that it never fazed you. I wonder sometimes whether you did that to anyone else; I wonder how many. Did you wait until they were passed out, too, or did you become more daring with your escapades? Did it really matter that we’d been dating? Would you have tried and succeeded without the fabulous dinner beforehand or was that just an appetizer?
So, I guess the things I would have said are: You suck. You’re a rapist. And go to hell.
Dear Addiction,
Oh, the times we’ve had, the things we’ve seen, the many things best left unsaid. I wish we both knew the many things that would and did happen. There were many, many good times—summers on the beach, winters in Colorado and Montana, springtime in Northern California, and Fall in New England. There were also many, many bad times—waking up in jail, missing my children growing up, destroyed relationships, broken promises, and, bridges which were nuked, not burned. The time wasted, money thrown away, the health left by the wayside—all lost in the name of pleasure.
Many a time, we’ve sat together and seemed to have solved most of the problems plaguing mankind. World Affairs, starvation in Africa, crooked politicians, or the sorry state of pro sports. I’ve seen man land on the moon, the Mets win the world series (twice), two women appointment to the U.S. Supreme Court, and, a man of color elected as our President. And, the whole time, I just sat there, watching from the sidelines, participating in spirit only. I’ve spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on you, directly and indirectly—booze, bags, bottles, lawyers, fines—yet, I still wanted and needed you in my life. No more! I quit! Pack your stuff and get out! I’m changing the locks, and there is not a goddamn thing you can do about it.
Just go, don’t look back and I won’t watch you leave, either. Slip away in the night and please lose my number. Don’t try and find me because I’m starting a new life today. It’s been real but not much fun at all. Goodbye.
Sincerely,
An Ex-Addict, age 52
Dear mistreated friend,
In sixth grade, I was trying to figure out who I was. No matter who asked me, I denied that I didn’t want popularity. However, that was a lie. As you know, I found a group of popular kids that liked me but only if I misbehaved. I put on this tough exterior that now I can’t break. I didn’t realize this until now. I thought I was a better person. They loved to hang with me. I sat with them at lunch and only talked to them. One day, one of them texted me telling me that I turned into a horrible person. That I should burn in hell. I didn’t know what I did wrong.