The Things You Would Have Said
Month
Dear M,
Visiting your grave is one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life but I understand you not wanting me to see what cancer had done to your body. I miss you everyday. I miss our jokes and the sound of your voice. I have mourned for you since that day in August and I am afraid that I will feel this way until my last breath. I know you loved me, and now it’s easier to say goodbye. I used to watch you as you slept, feeling happy that you could shut down your racing thoughts for a few hours. Now you rest forever and you have no more pain or stress. I just can’t watch you rest now but I know you are at peace.
You are always in my heart.
Yours,
L, age 32
Dear Mother,
Were you a girl they sent away? Were you scared?
Did you love him? Did he know? Was he with you? Do you ever see him now?
Did you see me? Did you hold me? Did you love me?
Does my hair come from you? My height? Am I really Italian? Who was musical? Did you really name me Elizabeth?
Are you happy? Have you recovered from what happened to us? Do you have other children? Do they know about me?
Do you hate my birthday as much as I do?
I read a book about what birth mothers went through back in the 60s and it broke my heart to think of you, all alone and scared. And then it broke my heart to think of me the same way. I can imagine my baby self alone in a nursery, no one excited that I am in the world, no one there to coo at me and marvel when I opened my eyes. I have lived my life this way, I think. Waiting for someone. Waiting for love. No baby should ever have to wait for that. I don’t blame you…it’s just the life we were given.
I’m sad and scared often. But I am ok. My family has had their challenges, like every family does, but I have been given love and security and I have been blessed. I hope, oh how I hope, that you have been, too.
I’m sorry that I am too afraid to search for you. I have thought many times about it but I am too frightened. You might be gone. You might not want me. You should really come and find me.
I have missed you so very much.
Your daughter, age 45
dad,
Sorry, you neither deserve the capital D or “Dear”; just “dad”. I am so angry today and so hurt that it’s hard to deal with it, but this seems to be the best way to communicate my feelings. You’ve been dead for over 35 years now, why/how do you continue to hurt me and embarrass me?
You weren’t even there the day I was born. You had more important things to do that day. You were 100 miles away, having an affair with some other woman, leaving my mother alone and afraid in the hospital. Then, because the hospital was overcrowded and no one knew where you were, they moved her and me out into the hallway, so that they could use her room. It hurt to learn years later that I was an unexpected pregnancy and an unwanted baby. And then you and she had the nerve to name me after you! Do you know how many years I’ve been teased and taunted about my name? Most people don’t even know what it is. And they don’t even know the history behind it. They just know I have a “funny” first name.
I so admired you when I was little, and was so proud of you. I always bragged about how you were “the best in the business”. It was only as I got older and realized what your alcohol addiction was doing to our family that you started to tarnish in my eyes. Oh, the stories I remember! Oh the shame! It was a small town, so of course everyone knew all about us. But I guess you were never that proud of me. You never attended a school play I was in, never watched me play pee wee baseball, never attended a PTA meeting, and didn’t even make it to my wedding. Were you that ashamed of me?
But that wasn’t enough for you. You wanted so much for me to be “a man” that you taught me valuable life lessons, like “men don’t cry” and you’re a sissy if you wear short-sleeve shirts, or shorts. You also taught me humility. Not how to be humble; but how to be humiliated. Every little misstep, every mistake, every error had to be shared with every customer, day after day, for weeks at a time. How many times a day did I hear how stupid I was, or how silly? Thanks to you, to this day, I can’t stand to be teased about anything. My self-esteem has never recovered.
You never spanked me: I wish you had. I would have welcomed the attention, the touch. The constant teasing was enough. You never hugged me, either. You never told me you loved me, or even complimented me for any accomplishment, large or small. Do you remember the day I came to see you at work, when I was home on leave from the Navy? You couldn’t say, “I love you” then, either. You couldn’t hug me or say how proud you were of me, but I saw tears well up in your eyes when you reached out to shake my hand as I was leaving. Maybe it was just the uniform.
You must have had a lot of “girlfriends” in your time, while you were still married to Mom, but the one I remember best (or worst), is “Roseanne”. She never even tried to hide what you were doing, and when you died, she was the first one to sign the guest book at the funeral home. Do you know I had them take white-out and blot out her name, and then I asked Uncle Jim to sign his name over hers so Mom wouldn’t see it? You know you had the smallest funeral I’ve ever attended: Mom and I, and one of your brothers. Your brother, a couple of the funeral home guys and I had to take your casket out to the car and then unload it at the gravesite.
But then today, when I thought you were done embarrassing me, finished with making me ashamed, you topped yourself. Mom had offhandedly mentioned several years ago that you had been involved in some kind of caper and had spent time in prison years ago. I didn’t want to believe it, even for you. But today, after much research, I learned from my daughter, (yes, you have a grand-daughter you never met, and a third grand-son) that yes, you were sent to the US penitentiary in Leavenworth, KS to serve a 5-year term, where you spent 3 and a half years. You shouldn’t have gotten that much time for your crime, but you had also served time in Huntsville, TX and had violated your parole from New Mexico State Prison, when you were arrested and sent to Leavenworth, so you were considered a habitual offender. Really dad?! Are there any more secrets you’re hiding? Are you about done with me now? I really don’t think I can take much more.
Woody, age 65
E.,
It makes me sad that you have no idea just how much this friendship is suffering. I guess that is essentially the entire problem. For as long as we’ve all been friends, you’ve been known as The Flake. For many years we all assumed you knew this. Until this summer. I came to realize that you didn’t know you were the least dependable person we all know.
You always say “Dude, you really are my best friend.” Do you say this to make me feel loved? To make me feel special? As much as I love you, because you know I always will, I do not need to be told that I am your best friend. I don’t lie in bed at night thinking, “Well at least I’m her best friend.” I don’t need to hear this because I know it’s not true. Every time you say it, it actually makes me feel worse.
I tried to talk to you. I had points laid out. I knew events and dates that you let me down. But you didn’t understand. You felt attacked, and I was shocked. You had no clue of your destructive ways. You didn’t understand all that you had done. When I brought up the Coffee Incident, you said that was “so long ago, dude. Like what do you actually want me to do about that now?” I didn’t want you to do anything. I just thought if you could remember that you made me wait at the coffee shop for an hour before my plane took off, before I’d leave the city for two years, honestly believing, “This time she’ll show. We never said goodbye. She’s gotta show.” You’d understand how badly you hurt me that day. That a part of our friendship broke that day. And pieces of it have been breaking every time you’ve let me down since.
Now there’s nothing left to save. We’ve been holding the pieces together of what was once a beautiful friendship. We’re smiling, pretending, desperately hoping this shell of a friendship could be made whole again. But it can’t. The pieces don’t fit anymore.
I have tried so hard to make this work, but I can’t do this anymore. I’m coming to learn that I need consistency, too. I need dependability. I need support. I need a real friend. And I have that in other people, not you. I guess in part, I’m to blame, too. We all are. We never told you that we couldn’t count on you. We always made a joke of it when you didn’t show. We should’ve mentioned it the first time, not years later. But that’s the way it all turned out and I’m sorry for that.
So this is goodbye.
I love you and I wish you the best, but honestly, my heart can’t take this anymore.
I will always have the best memories of you, laughing hysterically while driving around the city, blaring bad 90s music and smoking cigarettes in our high school uniforms. Late nights drinking until 6AM and having to work in the morning. When you actually showed up, you were amazing and a wonderful friend, but I can’t keep guessing anymore when you’ll actually show up.
xoxo
E.M., age 22
Angel,
I know you are always protecting me.
J, age 29
Dear you,
You know who you are. You’ve been the only one on my mind for the past two and a half years and you know it. Yes, this letter is to you. You see, no matter how hard I try, no matter who I meet, no matter how exhausted I am, thoughts of you keep me up every night. I sleep so much better when you wish me sweet dreams.
It bothers me that you always want to know how much you mean to me and how much I miss you, but it seems that you have a difficult time telling me how you feel. Really, I just want to know you’re not going to disappear. Again. I just want to know that I can look forward to my future know you’ll be in it. But asking about the future just makes you disappear.
You like to remind me how challenging it is, since you live so far away and we don’t get to see each other often. I keep reminding you I’m willing to make the sacrifice. I’m willing to put forth the effort. I want this. I want YOU. Perhaps you don’t want this as much as I do. Wouldn’t it be fair to tell me?
You’re going to be home in less than a month. Before you leave again, I’m giving you the opportunity to make this work. Show me you care. Prove to me that you’re serious and you want this. Please. Because if you don’t, it will be my turn to disappear. There will be no further contact. I won’t be just your friend. I’m not asking you to propose, but I’m tired of saying we’re “just friends”. So, get your priorities in line, decide what you want and make a commitment to me, or watch me walk away for good.
Love,
Me, age 20
Dear Dad,
I have always wanted to say many things to you. Most of the time I just wanted to stick up for myself because I knew you were wrong. You would yell and yell and yell at me for something I didn’t do wrong. You just overreact at the small things. I would sit there for hours at a time and listen to you yell at me and tell me how it didn’t matter what I said because you were always right. You were the adult and I had no right to argue with you for something I believed in.
I have always wanted to just say how horrible you made me feel and how I wanted to kill myself because of you. But I knew I could never tell you this because of what would happen because of it. I’m too afraid of you to tell you how I really feel. I’ll just bring up this one thing that really got to me. It really made me go down on myself and I lost so much confidence in myself. I believe that to this day, you are the reason why I am so shy, and why I have trouble speaking up for myself. One time you told me I wasn’t good enough. That was like a dagger to my heart. I even wrote a fantastic poem for it. That’s what I do. I write poems when I feel down or want to die. I have a whole book of them thanks to you and various other things. But mostly you. I mean, I do love you, don’t get me wrong. You are a great guy, but you get so angry it terrifies me, and you take all your anger out on me. You can be very abusive. You have knocked me down with all the hurtful words you’ve said. You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to report you and get you out of my life, but I was too scared as to what you would do to me if I did.
There is one thing I am definitely sure of though. You had no right to treat me that way. But of course, I am the one who has to pay for it all. I can’t recreate my childhood and grow up a different way. I have gone through what you have put me through and there are no do-overs. I am forever scarred. Thanks.
Your Daughter,
Taylor, age 17