The Things You Would Have Said
Month
Dear unborn child,
I am sorry that it has taken me eleven years to write this. I am sorry that had I done the right thing, you would be a beautiful 10 year old little boy or girl.
When I found out you were inside me, I was scared. So, so scared. But immediately, I loved you. Mum and the rest of the family, including who would’ve been your father, didn’t quite feel the same. Each and everyone of them telling me that you were wrong. A dreadful mistake. A burden.
But I knew what I felt. I knew that you were my child and that you already meant the absolute world to me. I haven’t been to your grave in a long time. It still hurts to know what I did. What I must wake up being guilty of every single day.
Doesn’t mean much now, but I adore you. Given the chance, I would be stronger. I would stand up and say, “No! This child is mine, and I will love and keep it.”
Forgive me.
Mum, age 25
Dear Mrs. D,
I wish I could have met you and laughed with you. I want to tell you that your family is doing well and I love your son very much. He misses you everyday. We all do. I promise you I will do my best to take care of your loving family. Know that you are always in our hearts and we love you very much.
You have made a beautiful family and I can’t thank you enough for raising such a wonderful son. I will do my best to make you proud and be the mother, wife, sister, and daughter you deserve.
All my love,
The woman who loves your son, age 34
Dear Carly,
I don’t know what to do anymore. You scare me with every meal you skip and every time you cry. You’re perfect, and I don’t understand why you don’t see it. Please, please stop, I just really don’t want to go to bed worried anymore. That you might be gone the next day and that it would be my fault. I’ve tried everything. Just please for me, please change. Never listen to guys because guys suck. You’ll see once you get out of this town that everything is better. It gets better, people change, and you should be alive to see that.
Xo,
Lindsey, age 15
Dear Manny,
How fast these few years have gone by. I swear it seems like so many more than two. Not a single day has passed where I haven’t thought of you, and to this day it still hurts as much as that night. After all those years struggling through school, we were finally a month away from our high school graduation. I remember speaking with you everyday on the school bus of how badly we wanted to be done with school, and I know at times that goal seemed so far away. I reminisce on those memories and it gives me the motivation to keep on going with my schoolwork and dreams for the future.
It’s crazy to think that I am entering my Junior year of college already, but I couldn’t have done it without you right here with me. I constantly think about all those good times we had throughout grade school, middle, and high school, and now I am able to smile and be happy when those memories dart into my head. I have been seeking counseling here at school for the past few months, and I feel the difference from all the help. I did not know how to cope with your loss, and burying the pain and sorrow deep inside of me was not the proper way to deal with it. I no longer feel an unbearable pain when I see a photo of you, or when people bring you up in a conversation. Don’t get me wrong, I still miss you and sometimes wish things could have been different; but that car accident taught me so many lessons and helped mold me into the young man I am today.
Thank you for always being there for me, even though you might not be here with us physically anymore. I will always carry you in my heart.
Love your friend since the fourth grade,
-Danny V., age 19
“I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us. If the book we’re reading doesn’t wake us up with a blow to the head, what are we reading for? So that it will make us happy, as you write? Good Lord, we would be happy precisely if we had no books, and the kind of books that make us happy are the kind we could write ourselves if we had to. But we need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. That is my belief.”
Dear Catherine,
The first time I saw you, I knew that you weren’t just another girl. I wanted to speak to you but didn’t know what to say, so two days later when you came and sat with me on the bench outside of the swimming pool and started talking to me, I felt like the luckiest boy alive. I sent you that little card with Garfield turning on a light bulb that read “You light up my life” and even though I didn’t tell you when you asked, I think you knew it was from me. When I said goodbye to you at the end of that week, I felt like nothing would ever be the same again.
That was almost twenty years ago. I still think of you and wonder where you are and what you’re doing. I’ve tried to find you using the Internet but, so far, I’ve not managed to. Perhaps it would be better if I don’t, because if you were any different from the girl I met on holiday in Cornwall in 1993, I wouldn’t know what to do.
Two years ago, I was back in Cornwall for the first time since I met you. I went to a little secluded beach and even though I thought I’d be ok, when the old lady I met said to me, “Enjoy your memories” I started to cry and didn’t stop for hours. I drove past the pub where your family and mine went for dinner two days before I left and thought about going inside, but I didn’t want anything to be different so I just drove by.
I’ll always remember you as the first girl who I fell in love with. Maybe we’ll meet again, but if we don’t then at least we did once.
xxx
Alastair, age 31
Dear Pedophile,
I don’t know who you are, but when I was 13 and walking in a park with a little boy, you followed us around and crouched five feet away, trying to push us into the woods so you could do…whatever you do. When you started inching closer, you looked at me, and I still see your black eyes in my dreams. I managed to get away by pretending I didn’t notice you and waving at some strangers. I walked right past you. Did you want to stop me?
When I got to my dad and pointed at you, you ran across traffic and disappeared. I got a punishment for putting the little boy in danger, but it was you who should have been punished. I kept on meaning to call the police - I will never forget what you look like - but by the time I mustered up the courage, they said it would do little good. I wish I’d stopped before leaving, looked you in the face and told you that if you had any humanity left in you, you’d give yourself up.
Every time one of your kind comes on the news or a child disappears, I feel that anger again - I feel like I’ve played some part in the children you may have hurt since then. This tears me up, but I know it’s nothing compared to the hurt you must have caused others. I give money to causes that fight people like you, but it will never be enough.
Every time they catch someone like you, I hope it’s you.
- The One that Got Away, age 20
Dear Grandpa,
Whether you know it or not, you’re my best friend. You have been since the day I was born. My favorite picture of us is the one when you first got to hold me. I love that picture to death. I love you to death. That’s why it hurt so much when you told me that you weren’t sure you wanted to wake up anymore. That just about killed me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I know that I can always go to you when I’m upset and I’ll get my favorite thing, a big bear hug and an “It’ll be okay, giggle guts.” What am I going to do when you’re gone? Who am I going to go to? I wish you would see how much it hurts to see you act the way that you do. You’ve been in my life for almost 21 years. I’d like to have you around for another 20 years. I want you to meet your great grandkids. I want them to see the amazing man that I have in my life. I want them to have their own memories with their great grandpa, not just the ones I tell them about.
I know I may be a little selfish, but I’m not ready to let you go. I want you to be around forever; you’re supposed to be invincible. You’re supposed to be here to watch me walk across the stage at my college graduation. I want to look out into the audience and see the big smile on your face, the one you used to get when you’d come watch me swim. I want you to be proud of me.
Love,
Kirsten, age 20
Dear Eric’s Dad,
I wish you would come back into his life. You live not even five minutes away. I don’t think you know but you kill him when you talk to him only five or less times a year. You are his dad, and it’s like he’s been without you through all of his high school years. Even if you think he doesn’t need you, he does. Every boy needs their dad ‘cause they look up to them.
I wish you would pay some sort of attention to him rather than only paying attention to helping the girls with softball. He graduated high school last week, and while you were there, you didn’t say one word to him. You took one picture with him and just walked away. I don’t think you know what this does to him.
I love him to death and it kills me to hear him joke around about how ‘funny’ it is that you don’t pay any attention to him, when I know it kills him inside. Seeing pictures of the two of you when you were in his life makes me believe that you did care, and possibly still do, but you just stopped trying to show it. I wish you would call him every once and awhile to ask him how he is doing. I know he hurts inside, and I just wish and pray that you will one day realize that he needs his father, before it is too late.
Kaitlin, age 18
Dear Derek,
You know I loved you. I know you knew that. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that you knew that. You hinted that you knew, and then you stepped out of my life without looking back. Before you, I didn’t want to get married, I didn’t want children, I surely didn’t want to attempt another relationship with someone who was a different religion, race, political background…everything. But you challenged me. You were a refreshing breeze to my stagnant soul. I wanted to sacrifice everything to be with you.
And now you’re gone. You just left, with broken promises about keeping in touch and staying friends. You said you’d visit and you’d invite me to visit, but you didn’t. Everything between us just stopped.
It’s been over a year and I still wonder when the day will come when I don’t think about you. I can’t even hate you; I love you too much.
Save me?
Julie, age 27
Hey Pop,
If I would’ve known you would’ve been gone three days later, I wouldn’t have been so mad about the money. I would’ve told you I loved you when I got off the phone. I’m sorry. I knew you had gambling issues, but I know, too, you had the same disorder that I do now after seeing you die in front of me.
I don’t know what mom did that made her do it, but I wish I wouldn’t have gone upstairs when she said told me to. Dad, I’m sorry. I could’ve prevented it from happening. I just wanted you to answer me when I was yelling at you in the basement. They said you could hear me, but I don’t know if you could. I don’t know if I want to know that you could. I’m sorry she shot you, Dad. I’m sorry I couldn’t have helped you. I’m sorry that in the courtroom, I sit on her side…but she’s all I have left with you gone.
You once said to me, “I don’t know if there is a God, but I’m going to do the best I can while I’m here." Dad, for a long time, I thought I knew there wasn’t; but after this, I hope there is. I want to see you again one day.
Sorry I didn’t bring a beer to your grave last time I visited you; it was an impromptu trip.
Dad, I’m sorry I was mad. I love you and I miss you.
Your son,
Dustin, age 23
The Washington Post has put together an amazing slideshow of letter excerpts from the book, along with some featured tweets from their readers! Check it out!
Mike,
It’s been a year now since you killed yourself. As soon as I heard the news, I broke down. It kills me that you thought no one cared about you; that you let drugs get to you again.
You could have been so much more. Instead, you chose to hang out with people that didn’t realize the problems you had. Sure, you were a fun-loving guy. Sure, you made people laugh. But did those people realize that you needed to drink, smoke, snort, whatever, to keep up that facade?
Your true friends knew that you were miserable on the inside. I just wish that you gave some of them the chance to listen to you, help you, and love you.
Your ex, age 29
Dear Hale,
I know you hear me when I cry at night. I know you are lying there in your bed annoyed because I’m crying. You probably think it’s about mom and dad or the divorce or my grades or not being good enough, but you’re wrong.
Sometimes when I lie in bed at night and the room is pitch-black, my mind travels to the ‘what-if’s’. What if we live with mom, what if we live with dad, what if we are stuck living four in one room for longer than we expect. Somehow, no matter what I’m thinking about, my mind lands on 'what if I died’?
That’s why I’m crying.
To imagine what would happen if I died, I think about what would happen if you died. What if I had to go to school and feel everyone’s eyes on me, hear their apologies, see their sympathy? What if I had no one to sit up late with talking about little things like food and music and what we want our futures to be like? What would it be like to see you lying in a coffin, smelling like flowers that smell like death? What would it be like to not have you to laugh with, to cry with, to harmonize with? What would I do?
Every time, I come up with the same answer. I would want to die, too.
I cry because if I am gone, I know how you would feel. If I died, you would want to die, too. We were born fourteen minutes apart, but that’s the longest we’ve spent away from each other. If I can’t spend the rest of my life with you, I won’t spend it at all.
I’m crying because of you. I write this asking you a favor. You can have my pink dress with the flowers on it, I’ll do your homework, and Jasper can be your cat. You can take anything you want, but please let me go first. I know it’s selfish because I know how you would feel and how you would suffer, but you’re stronger than me. I need you too much. Don’t go before me, because then I would have to die, too.
Please don’t leave me alone.
Your twin and best friend,
Mad, age 16
Dear Arnge,
I know I say it a lot, but you’ve changed me so much. I really, really hope that never loses it’s meaning. I think of how I felt six months ago, with him: guilty, paranoid, depressed, fake, overwhelmed. And then I think of how I feel now: pure, happy, and so close to God. I never realized how far from God I was when I was with him until I met you. From the moment you asked me to dance that Tuesday, I felt peace, and I felt whole. It wasn’t so long ago that I felt unworthy of love and blessings. I thought anyone who was my friend or loved me at all was blind, and if they knew everything then they wouldn’t want to be around me. But you treat me like I’m some perfect angel, even when you know what I’ve done. You still say, “Good morning, Wonderful” and you tell me you love me. I spilled my heart out to you and you thought no less of me because of it. In fact, it seems like you think even more highly of me for it. You praise me for overcoming it. I just can’t even explain. I see the good in everything. You make me happier than I have ever found a way to say.
I know you’ve had a rocky past. I don’t think you’re aware of how much I know. I stumbled across it all, and I worry about that now that you’ve asked me not to look into it. But I think no less of you for anything. I just hope you feel half as great as you make me feel. I hurt to think of you being mistreated or feeling alone, all I want is to help. I truly care so much about you. All I want is for you to be happy, and if there is anything I can do, just name it. I owe you everything that I am. You are the reason I am who I am now. I just hope you can see that in yourself. I worry you don’t know who you really are. I would do anything to show you what a wonderful person you are. It makes me sad to think of you not seeing what I see. You are the best person I have ever met in my whole life, and I never want to lose you. I never want to lose who I am with you. I hope I can tell you all this someday, because you need to know how great you are.
Love,
K, age 20
Dear Keith,
I hate you. My mother was an 18 year old kid. You left her to go through being a mother alone. You gave me a life full of “daddy issues” to a point where I’ve had a crush on my friend’s 50 year old father for over a year.
I will admit that we’re better off that you left. We have an amazing man in our lives now. He was your best friend growing up. He lived next door. Mom always says she was one house off.
I found you. I had never met you, and me, a 15 year old kid, came and found you. You were supposed to be the adult. You let me get close. You called and said that when you got back from Florida we’d spend more time together. You liar. I called and called and called until your voice mailbox was full. I wanted your love. I wanted your approval. I wanted the other half of me to think I was great. I wanted to feel whole.
You won’t be at my wedding. You missed my graduation. You didn’t see me grow up. You made your choice. I’m making mine.
Your Disgusted Daughter,
Emily, age 18
Dear Old Me,
It’s been years since you’ve been around. But the truth is that I’m not entirely sure when you left, and some days I could swear you never did. Even though you’re gone, I still feel you with me every day. Most days I hate your presence, even though I know that’s not fair to either one of us.
I wish I could have been with you back then. I could have told you things that might have made it better for both of us. I could have told you that it wasn’t just you, but that kids are cruel to anyone who they think is different. I could have told you that even the worst embarrassment you feared, the stuff that kept you from trying things, was nowhere near as bad as the feeling you’ll be forced to live with for the rest of your life knowing that you could have done things that would have shaped the person you’d eventually become.
On your darkest days, I could have been there to reassure you that no matter what, it gets better. The cruel kids grow up, and many of them stop being so mean. Some of the things you can’t do, you’ll eventually try. And some of those things you do end up trying will be as humiliating as you thought they’d be, but only in your head. I could have told you that even though you think the world is staring at you, laughing at you and judging you, they’re not.
Maybe if I could have been there to tell you these things, it would have helped you come out of your shell, experience things, feel like a more whole person, and stop hating yourself so much. Maybe it would have allowed you to grow into an adult who embraced life, laughed in the face of adversity and was totally comfortable around other people, instead of one who has felt the opposite and has had to continue to fight to become the person he’s always wanted to be.
I suppose we’ll never know. But know this: it gets better. You’ll do things, you’ll discover things you never knew about yourself, and you’ll meet people—many who you’ll actually enjoy spending time with, and a small but incredible few who’ll change your life. And eventually, you’ll start really living.
Yours forever,
New Me, 34
To the driver left of center 35 years ago,
He remembers yelling, “Look at that car!” before veering off the road to avoid hitting you. He told me that he slid into the woods and that he remembers hearing branches hitting the car, but not being able to see anything. Driving home from a friend’s house, he had two passengers with him, but when the car had stopped moving, he was alone.
He got out of the car to find his best friend standing over the body of a sixteen year old girl. Weeks later, they told him that the car must have flipped and thrown her, but neither he nor his best friend, who was in the passenger seat, recall ever being upside down. He doesn’t know what really happened, but he thinks she must have tried to get out while the car was still moving, and it rolled over her.
He was never the same. He will always question his decision. He will always place some of the blame on himself.
Family friends have described my father as being in a constant state of unhappiness, and I’ve never known him any other way.
I’m not mad at you. I don’t wish anything ill upon you. I don’t know what happened or where you were going or why you were is his lane, I just wish you weren’t.
Signed,
His son, age 19
Dear Dad,
I turn 20 this summer. I’m getting ready to transfer to a Top 10 university and you’re not here to see me do it. Not because it was your ‘time’ but because, for some reason, you decided that someone else’s family was more important than your own. It’s been thirteen years and I still don’t understand, but I’m not angry anymore. I just hope you know what you’re missing out on. Three beautiful children, one amazing wife, and more than a million memories made without you in them. I forgive you. However, unfortunately, I will never be able to forget you. I hope you haven’t forgotten, either.
Sincerely,
Marisa, age 19
Dear Emma,
I wish that we could have had five minutes together while you were alive. I would have loved to see your eyes open and for you know what I look like. I would have loved to talk to you, to hear you cry, to hear you scream. I would have loved to watch you look around that hospital room; that would be the only surroundings that you would ever know on this beautiful earth. I don’t understand why God took you home before you had a chance here on earth.
I would have loved for us to have a life together. I know that it would have been a good one. Can I tell you a little about it? I think that it would have been filled with laughter. I think that it would have been filled with fun. I think that we would have been really close.
I would have told you every day that I love you, in fact I still do, and I hope that you can hear me. I would have definitely embarrassed you in front of your friends, because I wouldn’t have cared whether or not they heard. I think sometimes I would have yelled it out to you as you left the car and were at school in front of your friends. I think that I would have laughed and laughed as I drove away. Not laughing at you because you were embarrassed–ok, alright, yes I would have. I think I am that kind of mom. Makes me laugh just writing about it!
I would have saved up for us to go to Disneyland. I have never been, and would have loved for the two of us to experience it together. I think we would have raced to all of the rides and raced to get hugs and pictures of all of the characters that wander around that area.
I would have told you about your dad, even though he walked away from us. I would have never talked bad about him. I would have told you of the good times that we had together. I would have accepted your decision to try and get in touch with him and would have been there for you, no matter what his response would have been.
I would have made you do your homework. School is important and I would have wanted you to do well.
When I think of you, I think of a little mini-me. A little girl who loves life, who is adventurous, who loves life, who is just fun to be around and of course is super cool. I think that all of my friends would have loved you.
But you are not here, and every day I miss you. I send you balloons as often as I can, some for special occasions and some just because I miss you. You are much loved and much missed.
I hope that you know how much I love you. I hope that you look down on me from heaven and see me. I am so blessed to have you in my life. I am such a lucky mom. I love you, my dear sweet Emma.
Love,
your mom, age 34
Teresa,
In the last 15 years, rarely has a day gone by that I am not ashamed of my actions of cheating with your husband. Your husband left you and your family to start a new life with me. How does one woman do that to another woman? To her children? I find myself wanting to explain why. What he told me about your relationship, or that he had already been cheating on you with other women before me; it still doesn’t make me any less culpable. You once sent us a letter expressing your anger. I thought about what a bad place you were still in so many years later, and how brave you were to send it. He threw it away, but I dug it out and kept it. I wrote many letters back, but never had the nerve to send them. To admit I was sorry was to admit I was a monster. I am sorry. What I did to you is unforgivable.
I don’t know if this helps; but he cheated on me, too.
The other woman, age 45
Dear Mike,
I miss you every single day. I miss you when I’m sitting in history class or driving to the mall. I miss you when something really funny happens because you’re always the first person I want to tell. And I miss you when things go even more wrong than they are because you always really did know how to make it better. There was a never time you didn’t make it better. I miss you, every single day, and I’m scared that won’t ever change.
I think things are right somedays, but most of the time I think it’s wrong. Because I didn’t know this was going to happen this way. I’m not blaming you, and I’m not really angry, either. I feel like I should be, but I’m not. It’s just painful. Really very painful. I thought I could imagine how much this would hurt, but I was wrong. We weren’t perfect as two different people, and we weren’t perfect together. However, our flaws were arranged in such a way that when combined together, we were accepted. I think you only get a couple people in your life that that happens with. But I couldn’t imagine more than one. I don’t want to. That’s what hurts.
Maybe if the day we fought wasn’t so dramatic, I wouldn’t be like this. I remember being at the Allan’s and saying I needed to go home. It was so bad that Mama Allan had to drive me home. I remember sitting between my bed and the TV’s dresser and laying there crying with music on. It was low and I was crying hard, but I could still hear. I made sure of it because I thought maybe you would come home. I think I still keep it lower than I usually did because of that. I still feel like you’re going to come home. I remember having it so low and crying so silently I could hear Dad take puffs of his cigarette. I could hear him picking up the phone and dialing Mom’s number. I remember him saying “Its just me. Jenn’s listening to music and crying. Yeah, it’s been two hours now. Bert, Mike’s not here yet,” and I think that’s when we all knew. You weren’t coming back that day. You weren’t coming back ever, really.
I remember days when we’d start off doing nothing, but we always found a way to make each other happy. There is always that very one vivid memory when we were driving home from Windham at night and took the back way home and saw something sparkle in the sky. So we stopped the car in the middle of Cunningham Road and lay on the hood of the car, watching the heat lightning dance across the horizon. You said, “When we’re old, we’ll be doing this.” I smiled and said, “I can’t wait.” I think we really thought it’d happen. I think it could have happened.
Lately, all I remember are days like these. Taylor isn’t a very good friend anymore. I don’t know how you predicted it, but you were right. And she was all I had aside from you. So now there’s no one. And I’m not really well, honestly, and because of that Mom and Dad fight a lot. They fight because they think it’s one another’s fault that I’m like this. If you were here, you’d tell me what to do about them. You always knew what to do with them.
I’m sorry for the things I said. I wish I could have made it better because with you going off to school, I know you didn’t want to be alone, but I also know you couldn’t take my tantrums anymore. I miss you but I would never want you to come back, Mike, because things have gotten much worse and I wouldn’t want to put someone through this, especially you, because you were the nicest person I had ever met, and I’d like to believe you still are. Just know that I am sorry, and I know I should have treated you better. Thank you for everything. I hope you think of me like I think of you. I hope all is well wherever you are. I hope you’re comfortable in school and I hope the band is good.
I’m sure I’ll be seeing you.
Jenn, age 16
Dear world,
Why do you hate me when I am what you created? Abandoned, abused, thrown away, and forgotten. What did you think would happen when the pain could not be tolerated? Survival was based upon numbing up enough to carry on another day. What you thought was funny only forced the wounds deeper and wider than before. You taught me to hate myself. You taught me my lack worth. You taught me to find my own comfort. You taught me that over and over again.
Now in the darkness I hear you still taunting me. I watch how you torture your victims day by day. I hate that I am a part of you. I hate that I have failed to change over and over again.
Lacey, age 28
To my father,
I wish you hadn’t abused me as a child. For over 45 years, I kept our secret. I know that I confronted you last year about it, but I wish you did not have Alzheimer’s Disease so that you could completely understand just how much this has devastated me.
I cannot look in the mirror and see the woman that I truly am; instead an ugly person who is not worthy of being loved.
It seems too easy for you to be able to escape into Alzheimer’s.
Your daughter, age 54
To my Galaxy Defender,
I’m listening to The Beatles. Not quite sure of the song, but I know that it’s John Lennon singing. You taught me the difference between John and Paul’s voice; kind of a stupid lesson, but it has always stuck with me. Just like how everyone tried to teach me to hold chopsticks, and I could never do it. Then you showed me when we were eating at Panda Express and it just clicked. Just like you and I.
It’s been so long since I last saw you, a tiresome of a year. It’s been nearly six hours since I last spoke to you. I don’t know if you were listening. I feel dumb sitting in my cold room talking to myself. However, I like to think you are listening. At least I can talk to someone; well I can’t really say someone, can I?
I never told you how much you meant to me. I wish that we could have gotten our lives straight, and our emotions, too. You were my best friend, the perfect best friend. It wasn’t really just about us getting along so well. You fit like a puzzle piece in my family, in my life. We were best friends, but you were also best friends with my siblings, friends, and parents. I hate knowing what it’s like having your perfect better half with you, because now you aren’t, and not having it anymore is worse than the feeling of wanting to have that feeling.
Since you left, it’s been crazy. I wish I could say a zombie apocalypse has run down the earth. I’d probably not being writing this. I probably be with you. Which I’ve thought about packing up and forever leaving to see you. However, I know you’d say that I have to accomplish my dreams. But you’re in them. So I’ve made new dreams, ones that aren’t as charismatic as you would like, not as thrilling.
I’ve moved on. I know I might seem depressed in this letter, but I want you to know that I’m not. I’ll never be as happy as I was when you were here, but I am happy. We adopted a cat, his name’s Sam. He’s beautiful, much like Shara was. I’ve started writing again. After everything happened, I stopped because I had nothing to write about, but I soon realized I had the whole universe to write. I don’t know if I’ve changed–I know that things are different and my life has changed, but I don’t think I have. I applied for Oxford University, like we always wanted to. I got in. I should already be down there, but packing and reminiscing through all our old plans and photos is harder than I thought. This letter, or whatever it is, might not make sense to anyone, but I know it’ll make sense to you, my Galaxy Defender. I miss you. I wish I could say I don’t anymore, but I do.
Truly yours,
Star Girl, age 19
Dear Storm,
When I flew back from vacation, I was looking forward to cuddling with you. I was searching in all your favorite hiding spots. We put out treats, but you never came back.
Why did you leave me? I wish we didn’t go away. I would have run all the way home to find you. I knew you might have run away when we left.
Did you die when you ran away? If you did, I hope it was a quick and painless death. Ever since you’ve left, there has been a hole in my heart, welling bigger, that will never be filled. You will always be in my heart.
Love,
Alanna, age 10
Momma,
Do you remember,
when I was breaking inside,
and when I was breaking bowls and plates and glasses
because I didn’t know how to tell you
that I wasn’t as put-together as you thought?
When I finally realized
that being quiet and stumbling through without causing problems
was just-good-enough for you,
good enough to keep you from being mad at me,
but not good enough to get attention?
When I finally realized that
by being good and letting you focus on my three brothers and their problems
and never asking for anything
was just going to end with me not having anything
and you not caring
and not understanding when I finally asked for something?
Do you remember,
when I finally told you I broke the plate,
and instead of asking why,
or what was wrong,
you said:
“That behavior is unacceptable.”
Did you stop to wonder what behaviors I had skipped for you?
Did you think about all the girls my age with kids,
with addictions and bad attitudes and no respect,
who didn’t even bother coming home at night?
Did you think about what I would feel,
knowing my behavior was ‘unacceptable’,
knowing I was 'unacceptable'
and that nothing I could do would change that?
Did you realize it was going to make me curl up in bed
and hate for so long
and realize I’d hated the whole time,
and now,
weeks and months and years later,
when I know better,
I still hate,
and I’ll never be able to stop?
Do you remember,
when I was breaking inside,
and when I was trying to break down and tell you,
do you remember leaving me behind
with all the tiny bits of shattered Me,
and telling me the best thing to do
was to build a cage with the pieces?
I don’t think you do.
Allyssa, Your Good Kid, age 18
Dear Mr. Layoff Notice,
I know you’re just doing your job, but did you know that by doing your job, you’ve gone and eliminated mine? Did you know that 14 years of teaching experience has just been thrown down the toilet? Did you know that because of you, I no longer have the money to pay my bills, or buy gas for my car? Did you know that because of you, there are countless students that are going to go uneducated, or at least not educated to the fullest of their abilities?
Thanks to you, my kids will have to go without. While your bosses, the so-called “big wigs” in the school district, are being paid well over six figures, have countless assistants and secretaries, and get a free car and stipend, I’m barely able to buy groceries to feed my children. Yet, they are allowed to keep their job. They probably don’t even like their job. I loved mine.
Now, I’m sitting here, writing this letter to you, trying to figure out how my husband and I are going to make it on unemployment. Instead of getting up in the morning and going to do something I loved, I’m worrying about whether I can pay my electricity and sewage. Instead of making up lesson plans, I’m sending out resumes to every school district in the tri-state area. Instead of teaching the Pythagorean Theorem to my students, I’m trying to find something else I’m skilled at that maybe I could do for a profession. Instead of smiling at students passing by, I’m smiling at countless people interviewing me for positions that aren’t available.
How am I supposed to show you to my husband, who already works so hard to support us? How am I supposed to tell him that I am no longer allowed to contribute to the support of our family? While you sit all cushy in your leather chair and designer suit over at the board, I’m scrounging around secondhand stores, trying to find clothes that fit my children.
And to think…there used to be a time when being a teacher was a revered profession. When teachers were looked upon as indispensable. Apparently, that time is no longer.
Signed,
A teacher, age 34
Dear Mom,
You are my hero. You left the love of your life to protect me after he beat you. You moved across the country to save your baby. You had the courage to fall in love again and give me the best father any girl could have ever asked for. You picked me up when I was down, held me when I cried, and yelled at me when I fucked up. I’m sorry that I haven’t always been the best daughter in the world. I’m sorry I dropped out of college and went to beauty school instead. It’s nice to know that my issues—remembering things, my inability to get motivated, and my lack of ability to tell a linear story—are actually part of my ADD. Too bad I couldn’t have been diagnosed in high school instead of at 21, right? Hopefully now, I’ll be better at it and won’t drive you crazy. I’m trying to be better.
You’re my rock. You’re the person I go to for everything. I need you in my life. I thought I would have you healthy and happy until I was grown up enough to be able to fully take care of myself. Just because I’m 21 doesn’t mean I don’t need my mom. But you being diagnosed with breast cancer is changing that. I know people beat it all the time, but it’s putting things in perspective. I am scared. I’m terrified. And the person I’d normally run to is the person who is going through it. I can’t ask you to take my stress and fear on top of what you must already be feeling. I can’t even cry around you, because you are amazing and taking this like a champ. The only time I’ve seen you cry wasn’t after countless tests and surgeries, but when you asked me to shave your head so you didn’t have to watch it fall out from the chemo.
I don’t know how I’m going to be able to watch the strongest woman alive whither away from the chemo. If I could do it for you, I would in a heartbeat. But here you are, doing it all with only the slightest hint of how scared you must be. Only daddy sees that. And I’m the one whose shoulder he cries on. I’m trying my hardest to be strong for you but I’m breaking down.
I don’t know how to finish this. I just want to not be scared. I love you, Mom. So fucking much. Please, please don’t leave me. I can’t make it without you.
Love, Brenna, age 21
Hanif,
Do you remember the times we were in school together?
We were the only ones who understood each other.
You had your Gameboy around with u all the time.
And the only person you trusted with it was me.
At that time I didn’t see the signs.
I’ve realized them now.
Years have passed now and I’m tried looking for you.
But I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.
I came across a picture of you the other day.
And remembered those happy times together.
I hope you’re doing fine.
If I could go back in time
I would keep your number and keep in touch.
I miss you.
7th grade girl
Dear M,
I wish I was brave enough to say all these things to you in person, but I’m not. It could be that I know you will hide your feelings out of fear and make a joke out of it or change the subject. It could be that I know saying them out loud will change the course of our friendship.
I have loved you for so long, and now, it’s unbearable. All these years it was a non-issue. Both of us attached, with an obligation to maintain the status quo. But now, events beyond your control have changed your situation, and all the “what if” possibilities are creating a whirlwind in my mind.
After we crossed one threshold, there was no turning back. I knew that from the beginning, even though we both promised it wouldn’t change anything. I thought the small pleasure I got from those times would be enough to sustain me, but it isn’t. I wish I could erase what happened between us. I wish I had never touched you. I wished I had never whispered to you. I wish I had never revealed myself to you. I wish I had never run to you or given you harbor.
Now, I will have to play a role that will eat me up inside. I will have to watch you seek and find the love that you badly deserve while I resign myself to a union that offers none of the companionship, trust, passion or understanding that my heart yearns to find. I will forever close my eyes and try to remember the moments of you.
A, age 44
Dear Gramma,
I wish I hadn’t lied to you. I remember the last thing I said to you: that I would come visit, that I missed you. I did miss you. I never lied about that.
But I knew I wouldn’t visit, even though you only lived twenty minutes away. It would be too much to ask from him, and I was afraid because all it would do would cause the start of another fight. I shouldn’t have cared about that. It shouldn’t have mattered. But I let him run my life, and I regret it.
We were in the basement level of the church. I had just moved back from Florida after a year, and you seemed to be doing alright. Then, the next month, things started to go downhill. You were in the hospital. A few of them. I was supposed to come out and visit that Sunday, but I had to work. At least, that’s the excuse I gave. The real reason is that I was too afraid to ask if he’d go, and too afraid to go alone because of how he would react. It’s a horrible excuse, more than words can express. But it didn’t matter, either way. You suddenly got better, out of the coma you were in, and everything seemed alright again.
Until I heard two days later you slipped back in. And it didn’t look like you were going to make it. I put on a facade that I’m fine. I make tasteless jokes that you waited until I was back to say goodbye, that not everyone gets to go to a funeral on Halloween.
I regret everyday that you aren’t here. I just want to talk to you again. I want you to know that I finally got rid of him. It’s been a whole year since I’ve been on my own, free. I have so much more to work on, so much that I know I’m doing wrong. So much I know you would disapprove of. So much that would shock you. But if anything, I know you would be proud of me for leaving. That’s what I hold on to.
I wish you could be there when I walk down the aisle. When I have my first child. I wish I could make you a Great-Gramma. But the only thing I can do now is try to better myself and try to make you proud, even though you’re gone.
I love you, Gramma. Chocolate chip pancakes.
Justine, age 22