The Things You Would Have Said

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 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.

Keep reading

Juan,

It’s been 14 years since I’ve seen you. I’ve only seen you once, actually—on the day I was born. On that fateful day, you told my mom how I looked just like you and you were excited to watch me grow up. You never kept that promise, though. You left my mom and I alone.

Do you know how much we struggled, thinking you would come back? Do you know what she went through? All the pain, drugs and alcohol? She spent eight months of my life trying to give me what I deserved—food to eat and a roof over my head. You still avoided us, like we didn’t exist. At some point in all of our struggling, you decided to move back to Honduras, not thinking how much she needed you. I needed you.

To have you leave and for me to get taken away from my mother sure took its toll on me. I spent most of childhood years in foster care, being moved back and forth. Only once did I find freedom, being adopted at three years old.

I’ve had many different struggles with my family, some fall under the category of every teenager’s life like cleaning their room. But others were harder to deal with and couldn’t be solved as quick as I wanted them to. I had spent eight years in private school, struggling with friendships, drama, and school work. All that seemed to just pile up until my sixth grade year, which was also my worst.

Do you know how much I was teased and taunted about having my dad leave? I spent most of my days in the bathroom crying in a stall, and do you know the one thing that always came to my mind? Why did you leave? I’ve spent years trying to figure out what I could about you, and yet I could never find anything. I don’t even know your family.  I’m about to go into high school now, and the only thing that I know about you is that your name is Juan, and you’re my dad.

So there you have it. I’ve grown up a quarter of life without knowing you. For all I know you could be dead.  On my birthday this year, I’ll wish for the same thing I wish for every year: for you to come back, hold me in your arms and say, “I won’t leave you again.” I know that’s just my imagination talking, though. You’ve been gone my whole life, so why would you choose to come back now?

Your Daughter, 

Alicia, age 13

Sal,

Its only 2 months since I lost you to that terrible disease, cancer.  I don’t know how I am making It through each day without you.  I miss you so much.  I never got to tell you how proud I was of you last year in your fight to survive.  You never gave up no matter how much pain you were in.  And I know now that you kept that smile on your face for me.  I wish I did more.  I wish the doctors did more.  They all loved you and admired you positive and loving attitude.  But then again, everyone loved you.  It was easy.  You are truly missed by all your friends and family.  We are not complete without you.  You were the link that kept us together.  But I am trying to keep it together and go on.  I hope you are proud of what I have done so far.  I have learned so much from being with you and I promised you that your children and grandchildren will always live by what they have learned from you.  You did so much for this family and I know you felt we never appreciated you or took you for granted,  but you are so so wrong.  We love you and miss you very, very much. 

Always and Forever in our Hearts and Mind.       

                                               
Gina, age 59

Dear Mama Jean,

The nine years that I have known you seems long but it went by fast.  Too fast.  When we moved next door, I was eight.  You were there for my family right away.  You called me your baby Ashley, and you were my Mama Jean.  I didn’t know exactly your reason for calling me your baby, other than that I was your goddaughter.  I learned later that your daughter had passed away as a baby when I was in the same hospital and we didn’t even know each other.  You had two more boys after your daughter Kelsey passed away, so I was truly like your second daughter.

You were always there for me and watched me grow up.  You and my mom were best friends.  You let me stay at your house when mom was sick in the hospital.  You helped me in school.  You were proud of me.  You couldn’t believe how old I was getting.  You always talked about how you had to get one of the tickets for graduation.  But that won’t happen now. 

I cried when you told me you were moving two miles away.  I cried when I heard you had cancer.  It was hard for me to see you when you were sick, because you were and still my godmother.  We have a lot of memories together and I cherish them.  People said we looked alike and I take that as a compliment.  You are so pretty.  I remember the last time I talked to you.  You were in the hospice center and not doing so well. You didn’t look like yourself and it was hard to understand you.  You told me to be myself and not let anyone push me around and that you were proud of the women I was becoming.  You loved me.  You still do.  I know because even though you are not here anymore, I can feel your presence, Mama Jean. 

You’re the one woman who I want to be like.  You did so much and I want to be able to hear, “wow, you and Jean are a lot alike”.  You were a great writer and made everyone laugh.  I hope I’m on the path of being like you.  

Love, 

Baby Ashley, age 17

PS. Don’t worry, I’m taking care of your stuff. I love you.

My Dear Child,

You would have been five years old this August.  It’s hard for me to believe that it has been that long already, but at the same time it seems as if it was another lifetime, or maybe I just wish that it was.  I know that I wish every day that I had never made the decision that I did.  I wish I had been stronger.  I wish I hadn’t listened to my Mother, or to your Father.  I wish that I had listened to my heart. I wish that I could have held you in my arms every day for the last five years, and for years and years to come.  I wish that I could tuck you in at night. I wish that I could teach you all that you would have wanted to learn.  I know you would have been so smart.  I wish I could hear you call me “Mommy”.

When I see children playing, and walking to school, I think of you.  I wonder everyday, how life would have been…could have been.  They told me it was the best decision for both of us.  That my life would be ruined if I had a baby.  They were wrong.  My life is ruined now, without you.

Your father was such a mess.  He was addicted to horrible things and an emotional and mental wreck; totally incapable of being a good Dad for you.  I hear that he’s clean now, but I don’t know if he’ll ever really be better.  It would have been just you and me Baby, but I know now, we would have made it.  Your Grandma would have loved you so much, she would have come around. 

I’m so sorry that I took away your chance to have a life, I will be sorry everyday for the rest of mine.  I’m sorry that I wasn’t stronger, that I let others influence my decision.  I’m sorry that you’ll never get to play in the sunshine, and learn all about this beautiful planet.  I’m sorry that you’ll never get to make a difference.  I’m sorry that you will never get to love and laugh, and have your own beautiful babies.  

I promise you Baby, that I’m going to do everything I can to make my life better so that I can make a difference in this world.  To try and take all the love I have for you, and use it to help others, somehow, someway.  Hopefully, one day I’ll get another chance.  I promise you that if I do, I won’t throw it away.  It’s all for you, everything I do, is for you.

Love Forever,

Your Mom, age 27

Rick and Robbie,

I hope the things you did to me haunt you.  I don’t have very many clear memories; after all, I was only 7 years old.  I don’t remember your last name, but I remember you were about 16 and 14, that my dad met your mom while they worked together at the hospital, that you had a sister, and that you had a little poodle named Bubblegum.  You may have been kids yourselves, but through my 7-year old eyes, you were adults.  Had authority.  Were powerful.  Were scary.  Especially you, Rick.

I don’t remember how long my brother and I were under your care or how long you sexually abused me, but I have been burdened by the effects of that abuse for the last 29 years.  I wonder how many other girls you abused?  Any boys?  Do you have families today?  Kids?  God, I hope not. 

Rick, I remember you telling me that we were going to have sex.  I think you even let me choose if it was to happen that day or the next.  I didn’t exactly know what sex was, but I knew it required no clothes and that it was going to be bad.  I remember feeling trapped and panicked.  I remember trying to rationalize in my little 7-year old mind, “If I choose today, it will be over with.  If I choose tomorrow, maybe he’ll forget.”  I was so scared of you.  You were so mean.

Robbie, I remember you were troubled.  I think you were suicidal.  I have some memory of you trying to hang yourself with an extension cord.  I felt sorry for you.  In a twisted way, I even had a crush on you.  Probably because you didn’t terrify me like your brother.  If one of you had to do those things to me, I was always relieved when it was you over Rick.  But, actually having a preference between my two abusers messed with my head.  After all, didn’t that mean that I was willing?  It took me years to realize that I even if I wanted to, I could never have been a willing participant - I was totally and completely powerless.

Being sexualized so young left me with such a twisted childhood; such a twisted view of myself.  And I have the two of you to thank for that.

I don’t know the extent of the abuse; my memories exist only as pieces.  Maybe that is a blessing.  But the questions drive me crazy sometimes.  For the longest time, all I wanted was to forget.  But now I want answers.  I want to remember so I can finally move on.  But no matter how hard I try, I’m left with gaps and holes.  

In case you have been able to put what you did out of your mind, are able to sleep at night and face yourself in the mirror, I want you to know that I still carry deep wounds.  I hate the ruins of childhood you left me with.  I hate the self-loathing that resulted and continues to this day.  I hate the depression and anxiety that plagued me in adolescence and adulthood.  Did you know that I was suicidal at the age of 12? 

I grieve for that little girl, who within a matter of months, went from a carefree, happy child to a dark, sullen, damaged one.  I wish I could protect her.  She was so defenseless.

Survivor to this day,

Sarah, age 36

Dear Terry, 

I regret that I didn’t apologize 42 years ago for the “Dear John” letter I sent you.  I was a foolish teenage girl who didn’t know what she wanted in her life.  I hope you have found peace in your life, and all I can say is that I’m sorry. 

Frances, age 58

Kate-

I spoke to you on the telephone and then you were gone.  If I had only known it was my last chance, I would have told you how much I admired the young woman you had become. The drunk that killed you still has 16 years to go. Ten years have yet to change his attitude, so I don’t have much hope for the rest.

I have no regrets, nothing I wish I’d said: you knew how much I loved you. But I have one haunting problem I wish I could share with you. Remember the July day before you left for school when we were all watching that psychic on TV? You insisted that we all decide on a secret word that only we would know. A word, you said, that we could use if one of us died so we would know we were really talking to the person we knew. You had a word right that minute.  It took me a few minutes and your sister refused because she never wanted to think that one of us could die and leave the others. After all, we were the three mermaids!

Now we are haunted by the “what if" we could connect? Would it work? You were so insistent that we make this pledge, did you somehow know this might happen? As hard as I have tried through the years, I can’t find a psychic to talk to you.  Your sister and I feel that we have let you down. The ones on TV won’t talk to someone specific and the ones we have located are either too expensive or too flaky to trust with this important deed. Are you still waiting for us? We would love to know you’re there. We want you to know we are trying.  Please, don’t give up on us.  You are so very dear to me.

Mom, age 56

Dear Audrey, 

Sorry I dropped your sushi on the floor at Clackamas Town Center.  We were at a small table and I wanted to play a game while you and your mom were gone, so I pushed all the food to the site so I had room.  Your food went falling.  I didn’t know what to do because I knew if I told you, it would be like you were eating off the floor and you would hurt me. Sorry I didn’t tell you. 

Sincerely, 

Watson, age 10

Dear Bapuju (Grandpa),

It’s been 13 years and a little over 3 months since you left.  I remember I was walking on the treadmill downstairs watching TGIF.  I hadn’t quite turned 18 yet.  We dropped you off at the airport a week or so earlier so you could fly to UK and then India to go see your son and daughter and all your grandchildren.  I remember when mom, dad and I went to see you off at the airport and you asked me what I wanted.  You smiled when all I wanted were cool, decorative boxes.  The flight attendant said it might be easier for you to sit in a wheelchair as it might be better for your knees.   You went along with it, excited for the trip that lay ahead.

When it was time for us to say goodbye I gave you the biggest hug and kiss on the cheek.  I can still feel your beard on my face.  When she took you to the plane, for some reason I looked back and a thought crossed my mind for some reason, that I still to this day cannot understand: this is the last time I will see you again.  How I so wish I was wrong.

While I was on the treadmill, the phone rang and it was your son in England.  I answered and he asked to talk to dad; nothing unusual.  About an hour later, I go upstairs and ask my dad what uncle wanted. Dad was quiet, didn’t say much and I left it at that and went to bed. I woke up to the sound of my mom talking and crying on the phone.  I ran upstairs and heard the news that would change me and my family forever.  You, the most wonderful Grandpa a person could ever ask for passed away.  Thirteen years later and it still feels as fresh as that moment.

I wish I could have told you how much I adored and loved you.  I loved your smile.  I loved you warmth.  I loved how much you loved me.  I wish I could tell you how amazing your son (my dad) is and that he is a total reflection of you.   I am the luckiest person in the world to have had you in our life and even more blessed that you lived with us for so many years up until the end.

I could feel your presence at my wedding last year when my husband and I got married at the temple you helped build.  I know you were there, I looked over to the place you used to sit and felt all your love and support throughout all the functions and really my entire life.  I know you were telling me that I was a strong woman and I was going to get through this.  I did, and I am so happy.

Please know that I will never forget you, that I never took you for granted, and that I hope to live by your example.  I love you, I love you, I love you.

I am and always will be honored to be your granddaughter.

Ameeta, age 31

Dear Other Man,

I am aching today.  I am aching because I know I am not living the life I should/could be living.  I am aching because I feel so overwhelmed by the things around me, so out of control of my life.

I am aching because while I’m in the shower with my tears, my husband is lying on the bed, content, reading the paper in his simple little life, oblivious to the turmoil going on in my head. 

I am aching because I want to know you better.  I am aching because I want to know: where you would live if you could live anywhere in the world?  What you like to do on a quiet Sunday afternoon when you have no obligations? What it is like to watch you teach in your classroom?  I am aching because I want to be closer to you and I can’t.

I am aching because I know I can’t be closer to you, and I wonder if this should continue as it is becoming more and more difficult for me to clearly think of my life, without the influences of my feelings for you, real or not.  If we can’t be together, what are we doing?  

I am aching today because I care for you a great deal, but also realize that I’m not sure who I’m caring for.  Without the ‘total’ involvement, we can’t really know the other person.  We are just skimming the surface and not deeply connecting.  That is one thing that we cannot do, for now. 

It is hard being good.

Aileen, age 57

Dear Younger Self, 

I need to warn you about some things that you will regret for a long time if you don’t figure some stuff out now.  Stop doing all the smoking and the drinking.  Stop falling for losers and don’t be a wimp about Michael van Winkle.  Tell him how you feel before he leaves for training.  Tell Mom and about your depression or talk to others about it; you will save a lot of pain.  Do not sneak out with Smink at three in the morning.  The cops will be patrolling and you will get caught.  Try to be nicer to mom even if she does make you want to pull your hair out. 

You will move in with dad when you’re a junior and fall in love with a boy named David right before you leave.  You’re not sure what to do with him.  Trust your instincts; they will save you more than once in your life.  Big Tommy is going to die in a car crash.  You’ll feel it deep in your bones.  You won’t go to the funeral.  Mom is going to have a boyfriend you will come to hate.  You are going to do better in school and you will really want to go to college, so quit slacking and get your grades up. 

I won’t say anymore. Just know that I love you and you will love you.  Do not change who, how, and what you are.  You’re a good person and very loved.  Keep the peace you find within yourself forever.  Always keep your mind and heart open.  

Tons of love, peace, and good vibes, 

Emily, age 18

Dear Nana, 

My sister and I were your only grandchildren, and you treated us like we hung the moon. We felt your love and adoration immensely. I was blessed to grow up with you in my life, and I was devastated when you died when I was in high school. I still wish you were here. But after you died, I began to learn more about the way you treated my mother, your own daughter, and my father, and how painful you made their lives at times. I respect both you and my parents so much for keeping my sister and me in the dark while you were alive, but now that I know, there is a lot I wish I could have said to you.

Most importantly, you should know that you raised a near perfect woman. She is a selfless, compassionate wife, and simply the most ideal mother a child could ask for. She has been my constant advocate, an unbiased listener, a cherished and energetic friend, and a tremendous source of pride in my life. The fact that God made her my mother is one of the main reasons I know He loves me. She does not judge me, she does not yell at me, she does not set expectations for my life or make decisions for me. She supports me unconditionally. And my father, despite everything you apparently believed about him, is a wonderful man. He loves my mother and protects her and encourages her to succeed. He is a very fine life partner for her, and such a blessing as a father. He is truthful, generous, loyal, and quick to put the needs of his family before his own. He is so very proud of me and would give anything to see me achieve my dreams. He cherishes nothing more than quality time with my mom, my sister and I. He is a supremely good man.

I’m not sure what caused you to treat them the way you did, or why you felt compelled to say the hurtful and nasty things that you said. But you were wrong. You should have apologized. You had no right to make my mother feel the way that you made her feel, and you were solely responsible for the strain she felt as she tried to hide her feelings from her young children to give them a normal relationship with their grandmother. But she is so much wiser from your mistakes. She is a much better mother than you were. I wish I could tell you that. I wish you had a chance to fix things. I wish you would have apologized.

I love you and miss you dearly as a grandmother. But I’m mad at you now, and I wish you could apologize and I could forgive you.

Love, 

Jess, age 29

Dear Ex-boyfriend,

You burned my self-esteem. You pointed out and knocked down everything that made me “me”. Because of you, I judge any guy that tries to get close to me. You took away the natural trust I had in people, making me over- analyze things and pick out a person’s flaws. You knew how to hurt me, what made me vulnerable, and you attacked it.

Years have gone by and countless number of possible relationships lost on my end because of my lack of self-confidence and self-worth. Before you, I was happy, confident, and held my head high. Now I fight each day with the little voice inside my head.  It is your voice, pointing out my flaws and bashing my self-esteem to the ground with all intention. You knew the weaknesses I had and you knocked them down as hard as you could. You knew my worst fear in life was abandonment, and after years of slowly deteriorating me, you made that fear come true.

Now, in turn, to spite you, I will find my self-confidence and build back my self-esteem. I will not give in until I find someone who truly knows what they have in me.

Love,

DF, age 23

Dear Mom,

You were my hero. My very own, personal Wonder Woman. You could do it all. When, from then and now, did you lose it? I am not sure. I do remember the first time though, the first time I had to witness it and be there every step of the way. I was 14 years old and you were in a comma for over two months. My sisters and I were afraid, afraid we would lose our mom. You know better than anyone that we have no one else. You were always a single mom.

Being raised by a single parent never crutched me until today. I have reached the end of my rope, Mom. It is now me that needs you, it is now me that feels the empty void only a mother can fill. I want to live, I want to travel and see the world. I love watching movies and reading magazines. I love to read books and I enjoy writing. I want to study more and learn about different cultures. But all of this would mean nothing if you are not in this world to see me through it. I believe we can be there for each other but I am seriously exhausted of having to constantly save you from yourself. And I am not the only one.

The saddest thing is that you will never understand. You always assume you’re a huge bag of bricks I have to carry along on my back. I care for you and wish you would seek help. We have tried. Tell me, what child should have to listen to their hero say they don’t care about life or anyone in it? I wish you would please listen to me and try to better yourself for me. Because I still need you. I will always need you. You have always thought that you were alone in this life. You are wrong. I have always been here, caring about you, listening to you cry and wiping your tears. I need you now, Mom. I need you to please put yourself second for just a moment to be able to get past all that surrounds your life so that you can see the beauty I see.

You are an amazing woman, I always thought so. But your leading yourself toward a road that you should not follow. It should be you telling me this, and it is me tell you. Your daughter is begging you to please listen for once.  Your daughter is begging you to be her mom.

-Lost Daughter, age 23

Brennan,

I love you and that hasn’t changed.  It sucks I can’t tell you that anymore.  I tried to talk to you about everything the day before your last, but I couldn’t get ahold of you. 

That night freshman year of college, I always had a feeling it would happen.  I love you as a friend and more.  I always thought we’d have more time to be together and fall in love.  Time stopped for you, and it’s still going for me.

I never brought that night up again because I wasn’t sure what happened.  I didn’t want to lose you as a friend.  Things like sex can get in the way and you meant to much to me.  So we both pretended and ignored it. 

I think everyday about the things I wish we talked about.  I tell you them everyday as well.  I listen but can’t hear you answering me.  I wear your bracelet and carry your picture to have pieces of you with me.  

Sometimes I even try the dress I wore that night.  The little black one. 

Almost all my music reminds me of you, but it also reminds me that your not too far.  It reminds me that you did exist.  The music floods me with memories, of the nights where we have little memories. 

Everyone else got to grieve together.  Everyone else got to cry and remember you.  I was in Italy.  I was too far away.  I’m home now and I look for you everywhere.  I look for you at our favorite spots and call you every now and then. 

The night I left, I promised you a drink and conversation when I got home.  I’m home and your eternally abroad.  I haven’t been to that bar yet; I’m too scared to face reality of you not meeting me there.  

I know I can’t turn back time, but I’m having trouble moving on. 

-Molly, age 20

Papa, 

There’s a lot of things I would have liked to say to you, but couldn’t.  I was so little; two years old.  I want to say how I love you, and I know you’ll always be there for me and reach a hand down from heaven to help me when I fall.  I know you will guide me through life.  I miss you so much.  I miss your smile and your wise face.  I miss your strong arms around me when you hugged me.  And most of all, I miss being with you.  You were a great grandpa.  I remember my first fourth of July with you outside on a picnic blanket.  

Love, 

Grace, age 9

Dear Dad,

Today is the 8^th anniversary of your passing. It is hard to believe it has been that long. Sometimes it seems like yesterday.

I wish that we had talked more and opened up to each other. It bothers me still that you never asked me as a child what my dreams were, what I wanted to be when I grew up and if I wanted to get married and have kids. You never encouraged us to go to college. We didn’t make a big deal when we graduated because you didn’t seem that interested. It was a big achievement and it disappoints me that you didn’t recognize it.

I am sorry that you never seemed happy. You could not find joy in the simple things in life.  I hated the constant arguing and complaining with Mother. It never stopped. I don’t understand why two people would want to live like that. Maybe that is why I have never married.  I know your drinking played a big part in all of this. And while you stopped when I was 20, the damage was done.

I hope that you were proud of me. I am not sure because you never said. I try my best to be a good person. I know you were a good person but you made that hard to see at times. You always provided for us, we had a nice house, food and clothes. You never missed a day of work because of the drinking. That is something.

I hope you are happy and free now. I try to imagine that you are sitting under a big tree, on a hill, barefoot with a book surrounded by the family and friends that went before you.

I miss you and wish things had gone differently. I know you did your best.

Your Daughter Always,

Janice, age 49

Dear Memom,

It has been quite a few years since you left me. I wanted to take this time to properly thank you for everything you ever did for me. Thank you for reading to me every night.  Reading to a two year old is not easy, but through your persistence, you inspired a lifetime of reading that has aided me in every aspect of my life. I am grateful for that. Thank you for the massive amount of patience you showed me. Thank you for teaching me that patience. Thank you for helping my dolls stand up when I wanted them to, teaching me to cross-stitch, letting me ‘wash’ the dishes, and for teaching me how to sing.

Thank you for teaching me to love animals, music, and the outdoors. Thank you for teaching me how to hang laundry outside so it smelled like the sun. Thank you for letting me grow up free range. Thank you for always being there for me with loving open arms and a cheerful smile, even at 2am when I ran to your house crying because I was afraid of my mother. I always knew I could count on you, even when I could not count on anyone else. Thank you for paying my way to France in 9^th grade, the February before you died. It was a once in lifetime opportunity I would not have had without your support. Every day spent with you was once in a lifetime. Thank you for positively impacting my life with your love. I would not be the person I am today without you.

Now let me formally apologize. I want to say I am sorry for making you cry. I know I was a sassy, mouthy pre-teen. I remember you sitting at the kitchen table; I was so upset with myself that I did something to make you so sad. I know I was not the easiest kid, but I never wanted to make you sad. I hope you forgave me, even though I never did apologize.  My last apology is for something I did after you died.  After you died, I found money that you hid and I kept it. I don’t know why, other than I was angry you left me and maybe it was some sort of retribution for my loss.

You were an amazing woman and I am so lucky to have had you for the short 15 years that I did. In everything I have done in the past 11 years, I have thought of you. I would like to think that I have made you proud. I would like to think you still live through my actions. Thank you for being there for me, and I miss you every day. If I knew you were going to leave me so soon, I would have said this sooner. 

Rachel age 26

Dear Meggie,

I’m real sorry that I never knew you when you were alive.  I met you a long time ago when I was the detective that put the case together that resulted in the conviction of the man who murdered you.  He was a man without any natural affection; he had promised to marry your mother to gain access to you. He deceived her so completely that your mom had told me that she would never be able to trust another man again.  You mom has always been trusting; she just trusted the wrong person.

It was a real bad time for your mom.  She never knew the pain that she discovered by trusting the wrong person to watch over you.   She still feels guilty, but I told her that you probably knew that it was a mistake.  She still loves you.

Before the man’s trial I met with your mom and her sister once a week for coffee; just to talk.  Your mom was such a wonderful person and I was really impressed with the strength of her faith that she showed at such a time.

That’s why I asked her to marry me.  Your mom has been the most wonderful wife that you could ever imagine for the past 27 years.   You have a wonderful half brother, he’s so much like your mom. He’s 25 years old now.

I want you to know that for the rest of my life I will be taking care of your mom and half brother.  It’s really a two way street; they spend a lot of time taking care of me too.

Nothing like what happened will ever happen again; I promise.

I just want you to know that you are still missed.

Love ya,

Daddy Bill, age 58