The Things You Would Have Said
Month
**Special Note**
This letter was submitted a couple of months ago and I was finally able to share it today. I actually had another letter I was planning to post, but then decided to make a last minute change. When I emailed the writer last night to let her know that her letter would be on the site, she wrote back and said, “I’m thrilled! Ironic that my father will be visiting me for the first time in three years tomorrow.” I then asked her if she would be showing the letter to her father, and she responded, “Yes, I believe I will. It is too chilling that it will occur on the same day of his visit. It’s almost as if it were meant to be. Thank you for this opportunity.” She is going to use the letter as a stepping stone to ignite that unspoken conversation. Amazing!
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Dear Dad,
For almost eleven years, I have suppressed so many things I have wanted to say to you, and here is my chance to get the writing on the wall. Eleven years ago, I was 17 years old. My life was on the verge of beginning as an adult young woman. I was falling in love for the first time. I was halfway through my senior year of high school, with scholarships and college applications on the horizon. I was working as a go-for at the local attorney’s office and thought it may transpire into a career as a paralegal or one day, maybe a communications consultant for a big name company. I loved writing, I loved reading, I loved day dreaming. I was a girl with wings, about to fly.
And then, you came home that morning early from work and sat us down and told us you didn't want to be a husband or a father anymore. It was my sister’s 13th birthday. It was six months before your 20 year wedding anniversary to our mom. It made absolutely no sense.
I remember standing there, in our warm living room, warmed by the stove fire that you always made the mornings before you left for work, and watched you shake your head, not a tear in your eye. Was this really the man that came home every day to have lunch with “his girlfriend”, our mother? The man who prayed with us every night at our family dinner table? The man who tucked us in on a nightly basis, even as teenagers? The man who loved us was now saying he no longer did.
Dear Grandma and Grandpa,
Very much has happened since you both passed away.
So much has happened especially since you passed away, Grandpa. It’ll almost be nine years coming up soon. I was 10 years old when you died. I hadn’t accomplished anything. But now I’ve graduated high school, found love, bought my first nice car, all with you just watching from above. I wish you could’ve been here to tell me how proud you were of me. I wish you could see me get married and watch Grandma spoil my future children. I wish I wouldn’t have been such a brat when I was growing up. I was going through a lot, and I sometimes took it out on you. I’ve changed and grown up so much and I wish you were here to witness it. I hope you are proud of what I’ve done.
Grandma, we really miss you down here! It’s been a year and a half, which is too weird for me to grasp. I still think I can come over to your house and have you make me a sandwich, or I could steal your candy. I miss your birthday and Christmas gifts. Those days haven’t been the same since you died. I wish you could meet my boyfriend. He’s so much better than those idiots I was dating when you were alive.
I miss both of you so much it hurts. Hope you read this somehow.
Your oldest granddaughter,
Karlie, age 19
Daddy,
I’m almost 18 and you still grab my hand to walk across the street. I feel like I didn’t get to grow up with you. After you and my mom broke up when I was two, I lost you.
All these old feelings of fear and sadness are coming up again because you’re going away. Even though I hardly see you, it feels so different when you’re on deployment. I wish you didn’t have to go. Six months in Afghanistan is too long. But I know you like to go. You like the thrill of danger and the glamor of being a hero. I don’t want to lose you again. It’s already hard enough saying goodbye after a two-week visit.
Dear Joe,
What would I have said to you if I had been with you the night you passed away? I’ve given it a lot of thought these last 16 months and I was content in knowing that we said “I love you” to each other and we said if often. I have no regrets there, but if I had been by your side, I would have whispered in your ear, “I’m not ready to lose you. I’m not the strong individual you think I am and I only come across as strong because you’re by my side, ready to back me up. You’re my strength and the most important person in my life for the last 28 years of my life”.
I now have to figure out a way to move on without you in my life. It’s not the life I want but it’s the life I’ve been handed. I honor you and your memory and will love you until the day I die.
I miss you Joe and the life we had together. I miss your smile, the fact that you always had a cell phone to your ear and a camera nearby. I miss your love of animals, jokes and trivia. I miss our travels together and I miss cooking for you. Most of all, I miss being held by you and hearing your voice.
I’m sorry you passed away before you could enjoy retirement. You so deserved to enjoy life and not be burdened with diabetes.
I’m the hermit I always told you I’d be if I didn’t have you in my life.
I love you so much.
Your wife,
Kathy, age 48
Dear Mom,
I was only 21 years old but that is no excuse. To this day, I am angry with myself for being too selfish, or too uneducated, about what you needed after being diagnosed with breast cancer–the first time around. After your masectomy, I should have done more to help you, like accompany you to your chemo treatments (I can’t even remember who, if anyone, did go with you) or just spend more quality time with you. You handled cancer with solitude and grace. But I should have been there for you.
Now, I make up for it by offering my services to friends in need and visiting your sister once a month to help her out. It makes me feel like I’m helping you. I wish you hadn’t gone so soon; I was still so young and you didn’t get a chance to help me through failed relationships, meet your two grandchildren or see me get married (finally, at 42!). Maybe family was not allowed at the chemo appointments all those years ago; I don’t know. But I was there for you in the end, taking turns with my sister sleeping in the bed next to yours in the hospital, rubbing your legs, holding your hand, swiping your mouth with water.
When the cancer spread to your brain, I knew inside that shell of a body, my mother was still there. But we could no longer talk, laugh or cry together. I so wish you were still physically in my life even though I know you are here in spirit. When girlfriends complain about their mothers, I thank God you were mine. Still to this day, 28 years later, I ask why it had to be you and not someone who didn’t want to, or someone who didn’t deserve to, live any longer.
I miss you so much,
Patricia Ann, age 49
Nathan,
You probably don’t even remember this; you were so little. I was only eight myself, but I look back on this moment constantly.
We were in the backseat of the babysitter’s van with my best friend, Katelyn. She got bored and started to poke at me randomly. Wide smiles stretched across our faces as I poked her back, and by the time the old brown van rumbled to life, we were at war with the two kids in the row in front of us.
You were three at the time, so you got really excited and started to poke Katelyn and me with your chubby fingers, making sound effects as you went. Somehow, in all the commotion, your finger made contact with Katelyn’s eye, and as sensitive as she was, she screamed at the top of her lungs and yelled out “Mama!”
She started to cry, so Kristen stopped the van and sighed. After she rolled open the van’s doors, she hugged her daughter and asked what happened. Katelyn saw her chance and she took it. I knew it too – saw that look of recognition in her eyes – but I did not stop her. She blamed it all on you saying, “He poked me in the eye!” with no mention that all of us had been making a game out of it.
And I let her. “She’s my best friend!” I was thinking. She would get mad at me if I told her mom she was making a cruel lie.
So I went along with her story. I just watched as Kristen scolded you. I just watched as she made you cry and told you to sit in the hated and empty first row seat closest to her. I tried not to think about how the punishment would have been less harsh if you had poked another kid and not her daughter.
Dear Monica,
I’m writing you this letter to let you know how much I really do appreciate you and everything that you have done for our children. I don’t know why or how I could have ever been so abusive to you, mentally and physically. I know that you never deserved any of what you got. I’m truly sorry for all of the things that I made you go through. In my life now, I’m finally learning who I am. You were left to raise our children alone and you did a wonderful job. I hope that you can forgive me. I think that you probably never thought I would be able to pull myself out of the world that I created for myself, and I’m finally doing that. I feel that I owe you everything. If this letter does reach you, I hope you understand that I never meant to do those awful things to you or our kids. Thank you very much for everything that you have done and I’m truly sorry for all of the bad things that I did. I would also like to thank you for not making me into a bad person, as far as our children go.
Thank you,
Mark, age 44
Jason,
If I could go back and say anything to you, I don’t know how I’d pick just one. I don’t think I ever realized what an amazing connection we shared. We used to always joke that being twins felt just like being brother and sister, but we were wrong. It’s so much more special. So, what would I say to you? I miss you and I love you. So simple, but true. I have to believe that you are with us everyday and that you know that, but I’d say it anyway.
Next, I’d give you a hug. That’s not really saying anything, but I just wish I could again. No one gave bear hugs like you did. I just wish that when I had seen you last, I remembered to say goodbye and get another one of those bear hugs. I remember looking at you when we were sitting at the table that last night I saw you–you were smiling and laughing–and I could literally see the happiness in your eyes. You were making fun of me (just like normal) and joking with everyone. It’s a good memory. One of my favorites. How could I have know that you’d be gone so suddenly four days later? I swear it felt like our lives ended. I wish I could tell you how huge a part of my life you are. How nothing is quite the same now.
Dear Dad,
It has now been about 19 years since you walked out of my life. But it’s never too late to start being my dad again; all you have to do is try. Sometimes I wish you would.
Jasmine, age 26
Grandpa,
I wish I could say that I love you, but that would be hard since you aren’t here. You died when my dad was a teenager, and he misses you, but I don’t think he realizes that never meeting someone who is supposed to be close to you is even harder. I wish I could see you every day and feel your arms around me, because then I could make sure you were there. I know that you would encourage me in everything I want to or don’t want to do.
I started playing basketball this year, and every time I thought about who I wanted to come and watch me play, your name came to mind. I know that you would cheer me on and tell me I did great even if I didn’t think so. Your not being here is still hard on Grandma because she loved you so much, and together you both parented my dad. Grandma starts to tear up every time anyone talks about you and it breaks my heart. Dad always gets defensive when people bring up your name, and once he even made Clare cry because she said something about you and he got mad. I know he wishes you were here as much as anyone and probably more, but I think that is the reason he can get so angry to the point where he sometimes cries.
Dear Sweet Baby Girl,
Two years ago when you got E.coli, little did we know that our lives would be completely turned upside down.
I can still remember every detail like it was yesterday.
You were such a trooper. You were in the hospital in Juneau, dying a slow death as the bacterial infection ramped up to take you from us. There was nothing we could do. No antibiotics would help you; all the hospital could do was give you fluids and support you as the illness took its course. You endured four days of pain and suffering before the doctors decided it was imperative for you to be flown by jet to Seattle Children’s Hospital.
It was a small plane with only 3 passenger seats and 2 gurneys. The 2 nurses and your father sat in the seats, you were strapped to a gurney and so was I. That was the longest 2-½ hours of my life. I would contort my body to see you but all I could see was your delicate little hand reaching out for your father. Oh how I wanted to be there for you so you could see me and know things were going to be alright.
Dear Dad,
It’s been almost a month and I still can’t believe you’re really gone. It hurts so bad that I never got to say goodbye to you. I hurt so much inside knowing that you were all alone when you died. My whole life, I have always yearned to be “daddy’s little girl”. I always resented that phrase because it was never something I felt I was, and I wanted it so bad. Even as a kid, I was always jealous of the other girls my age who got to go to Father/Daughter dances while I sat home. I now know in many ways, you didn’t know how to be a father. I don’t blame you for that but I wish that things could have been different. You probably did the best you could but I just couldn’t see it that way. I wish I could tell you how much I really did love you and that I’m sorry for putting up so many walls between us in fear of getting hurt again. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think of you and miss you.
I wish that I had picked up the phone to call you when I got engaged in December. That is probably one of my biggest regrets. I was too afraid you would ruin the happy moment, when in reality, you probably would have been so happy and excited for me. Even though I told other people I didn’t want you walking me down the aisle, that wasn’t true. I did, but again, I just didn’t want to put myself in a position to be hurt by you. My wedding won’t be the same without you. Now thinking of the fact that you won’t be there to celebrate that special day with me, I feel so sad. I’m so sorry for being so stubborn. I should have just swallowed my pride and been the one to break the silence.
Dear Times,
Thank you so much. You were such a great friend to my mom and dad. You were always funny, I’ve heard. I don’t really know much about you, but I can only ask. The first time I saw your picture, I knew you were funny and kind. I wish I could’ve met you, but I never will until I’m in heaven. You were such a good friend to my mom and dad and I’m sorry you caught AIDS.
Thank you for keeping that picture of Kate and me on your fridge, especially since it was the only picture on your fridge. I love you, Times.
Love,
Jayne, age 10
Dear K,
Quite frankly, I don’t even know what I want to say to you. You aren’t someone I can talk to any more. Every time I hear your name mentioned or walk past you, there are a million things I want to let you know, but I can’t say any of them. We were best friends and then hooking up once got in the way of that. One afternoon doomed a friendship. You lied to my face. You told me that no matter what happened we would stay friends. I was there for you when your life got hard and all I got in return is a silent treatment.
For the longest time I was angry at you. You treated my feelings like they didn’t even exist. I may be a hormonal teenage girl and I can deal with you not liking me—but I couldn’t deal with you acting like you had never met me. It hurts to be blatantly avoided. It hurts that you don’t care enough about me to reach out. It still hurts every time I see you because I do miss you and I do want to be friends with you. But again, the purpose of this letter is not to berate you for what I think you did wrong; the purpose of this letter is to let you know what an impact you have had on my life.
Dear God,
I am sorry. I am sorry for abandoning you these past several months when you have been there for me. I am sorry for doubting you and for choosing not to feel your presence – even though you are always there. I’m sorry for looking the other way. I’m sorry for choosing not to listen. I’m sorry for doubting my faith and the woman I am becoming.
God, I’m sorry for taking the wrong path. I’m sorry for exhaustion being my excuse for weak faith. I’m sorry for not being a good Christian leader – and I’m sorry for putting so much pressure on myself. I’m sorry for talking about other people. I’m sorry for judging the actions of others, when I am now committing the same ones.
I’m sorry for my very unloving behavior towards my sister last Thanksgiving. I’m sorry for all of the hurtful words I said. I’m sorry for not reflecting your light in darkness. I’m sorry for giving up. I’m sorry for any hatred I have in my heart. I’m sorry for not forgiving other people when you always forgive me.
Dear Fritz,
Because you passed when I was at school, there are days that I wish I was home schooled. I didn’t find out that you died until around 8:30 that night. I had a really bad day at school and was looking forward to telling you all about it when I got home from Girl Scouts, even if you couldn’t talk or would get long, soft hair all over me. I still love you; you were the best dog in town, even if you would chase cars around the block and not come home for about an hour because you loved the neighbors.
My uncle must not have seen you; you were in a blind spot. He didn’t see laying there. You were rushed to Paws and Claws Vets care, with two broken legs–one on each side–a broken jaw, and parts of your back broken. There was not much that they could do.
You were someone that I could tell everything to, whether it was, “Don’t tell Grandma I stole the cookie!” or how my day at school went. The last thing I said to you was “Bye Fritz, see you when I get home from school.”
I didn’t care that you would chase cars, lay in the middle of the road or even lick my feet, and I still don’t. I love you.
With as much love as I can give,
Sam, age 13
Dear Dad,
I want to take this time to apologize for the letter I wrote you while I was in prison. I said some really mean things to you in that letter. I didn’t know at the time how to express my anger towards you. The things I said were callous and totally without honor. There hasn’t been a day in these last few years that I haven’t regretted writing those things to you, and for that, I truly apologize. I love you and hope you find it in your heart to forgive me.
Your son, age 39
Dear Mom,
I wish you were here. I need to talk to you and have you give me advice. I need to tell you that I am wearing the shirt you made for me today. The white one with black polka dots? I always get compliments when I wear it.
I wear your ring every single day. The one with the blue diamonds. I love it. It’s bittersweet, of course. I wanted all of your jewelry for so long. And now that I have it, I just want you.
I have your car, too. Tom traded me the Jetta for it. Can you believe that? I’m sure you’re appalled. :) Your car is so much prettier than my old raggedy Jetta. I always get compliments, though. And every time I do it makes me think of you. Matt keeps telling me I should clean it out, but I am holding off. I don’t want to erase any traces of you. Cigarette ashes or otherwise.
I love you Mom. I always did, always will and never told you enough.
We celebrated Tom’s birthday a couple weeks ago. Everyone was there, which was nice. I made him brownies. Your recipe. He loved them, I think. Seems like he always likes it when I cook for him. I’m trying hard to take care of him when I can. In some ways, though, I think losing you has really dampened his fight. I think he never really realized that you were his partner.
I miss you so…for a million and one reasons. I miss the good, the bad. I relive that that week in hospice over and over again. How I wish I could’ve had one last conversation with you. How, if I had known that Sunday afternoon would be the last time I would see you, I would never have left.
I treasure you. I treasure all the things you taught me about being strong, the things in life that are truly important. I admire the fight you fought for eight years. How I wish you suffered less, but how I know you made the ultimate sacrifices for us, your family.
Wish I could hug you.
Love you always.
Truly your daughter,
Jessica, age 31
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
Daniel,
This May will already be 4 years that you have been gone. I hate that month because it marks your birthday and your “death day” just 2 days apart. Since you passed away right after your 25th birthday, it was really hard for me to turn 25. I am now older than you were when you passed and it is really confusing to me. How am I older than my older brother?
I had never really been that worried about you being in the army. I guess it’s because when you would call from Iraq, you were always so upbeat and cracking jokes that I didn’t really think it was that dangerous. You never could take anything seriously, which I guess was good because it helped me not to realize the severity of your situation. When you finally got home and were stationed in Colorado, we all really relaxed because you were finally safe.
When I got the call that your Humvee had flipped and you had died, I was in disbelief. I never thought you would be killed at one of our own Army Posts. I thought Humvees weren’t supposed to be able to flip over? And why weren’t you wearing your seatbelt? You were the Sergeant in the vehicle, so why did you let the driver speed so fast on such a rough trail? They told us that you would have just walked away with minor cuts and bruises if you had been wearing a seatbelt. I am still so mad at you for that stupid mistake, especially since you used to hound us about putting them on all through childhood.
Your funeral was beautiful. The man from the Army was crying when he handed the folded up flag to our mom. To this day, my eyes still get misty when I see anyone in uniform, even if it’s just on TV. I’m so sorry for the fact that I don’t think you were happy at all in your life when you died. It does give me comfort now to think of you in heaven, away from the stresses of reality here on earth.
I wish now that you would have married Amanda, even though I didn’t like her much when you were together in high school. You might find it hard to believe, but she and her husband and their children live 20 minutes away from me now. I go there about once a week for dinner or just to hang out with them. She talks about you all the time and still has all your prom pictures. When I travel up north, I see Cory and Becca too. They just had another baby. It’s kind of funny how I have become friends with your friends now that you are gone. I think being around people who knew you the best makes me feel a lot better.
I still want to apologize to you for all the years of sibling rivalry we went through. I know I was a spoiled brat and would provoke you constantly. I’m also sorry for making fun of you and your friends because I thought that I was “popular” and you guys were “losers”. I still wish I would have listened to you when you first got back from your tour and you told me I should go back to college and get an education.
Thank you for finally helping us to be close again. I’ll never forget when you asked me “Are you going to be my sister again if I start being your brother?” If you hadn’t swallowed your pride to ask me that, we probably would never have been very close, because as you know, I’m stubborn as hell. If you would have died before that moment, I could have never lived with myself. Because you did that, we were able to be a brother and sister who actually loved and got along instead of the ones we were when we were in high school, hating each other. We only had a few good years and then you passed, but I’m so grateful for that time and I’m so sorry that I was ever mean to you.
I had a dream about you about a year after you died. I was at a cabin in the jungle and you showed up in a Jeep all dressed in camouflage. I was freaking out and I told you that we all thought you were dead. You told me this whole time you had just been really lost but that you are okay now and you are here to stay. I wish that dream were true, but I know eventually we will see each other again. Until then, I love and miss you so much!
P.S. Our parent’s got a new family dog. Her name is Trixie and she is a Border Collie/Lab mix. She would have loved for you to take her out running.
Love,
Rachel, age 26
Dear Triton,
I miss you. I wish we didn’t have to take you back to the pet store. You were such a good dog in every way. I think you did such a good job at following directions. My mom really misses you. We always think of you when we are sad, lonely, or happy. You made me smile every day. I really miss you and love you and I hope you found a good home.
From your best friend,
Emmeray, age 9
Dear Mom,
I’m still working on your house. It’s coming along nicely, but it’s so hard for me to throw your things away. I pick up old cards from me and my sisters. I find all of Daddy’s trophies from playing pool. I find religious cards, statues, crosses, candles. I feel them in my hands and turn them around, then dust them off. Letting go is so hard. Every time I discard something, I feel like I’m throwing a part of you or Daddy away. No one seems to understand how hard it is. Everyone else who knew you, including my sisters, seem okay and are moving on, but I am stuck.
I am not hoarding as they think. I just feel like these items were loved by you and they should be cared for because of that. I feel as though you would be hurt if you knew I threw them out. Each one seems to be a piece of you. If I throw them away, you will be gone. For the last ten years, our lives have been so connected and intertwined. That part of my life is gone and I notice that everyday. I hope that time will help.
Linda, age 63
To my unconceived baby,
For five years, I waited for you. Every single month, I tried to make you arrive in May, the same month your sister Francesca was born, because there was plenty of sun. After a year, I didn’t mind at all–you could choose your month.
I would wash, iron and place in a cute box all of Francesca’s clothes with a note reading “Newborn to 1 year old” so when you were born I could easily find them. Now I don’t know why I continue to write “5 years, winter clothes”.
I followed every single advice in this world to have you. I bought fertility books, I went to acupuncture sessions, I ate only organic. But you never arrived and I am getting older and older.
My heart suffers when I hear some of my friends complaining because they got pregnant again. With a smile on my face, I tell them, “But that’s wonderful news! You’ll see. You will be so happy with this second child!” But in my heart, I will cry because I was not the one to be pregnant again. I keep watching friends and relatives get pregnant, and not me.
I love you so much, you can see. If you can see how I love Francesca, you will understand why I wanted you to be part of our life. I decided to leave my job to be with her, to dedicate all my energy and love to her, to cook healthy meals, to follow her, to teach her Spanish and my Mexican culture. You were going to be treated the same with all the love of my heart.
My heart suffers when Francesca asks me about you, a baby sister or a baby brother. I don’t know what to tell her. I don’t want her to think that I am not happy having only her because you know that for me, she’s the most important person in this world.
Even if you already know, I want to tell you how much I love you, my little baby. How much I want to hug you tight. I ask you to help me accept that you will always be in Heaven and not here with me.
Tu mamà B., age 45