The Things You Would Have Said

Dear You,

I am so conflicted inside. So indecisive and confused - and with this unsteadiness comes great sorrow. All I want is to love and to be loved in the most organic way. Stripped bare of outside stressors and afflictions. A mute-to-the-world love. A blinding love. Love that deafens me to the harrowing sobs of my soul. But this distance between us makes that impossible. It turns these empowering feelings of a true connection into a query, is this real or just an illusion? You are my tears and my smiles. You make me and break me down, without intending to. I love you and yet I resent you because you’re not beside me.

What you did with her doesn’t help the situation. I know we weren’t officially together at the time and that’s something that, retrospective to when we clashed, I have accepted as not an excuse nor justification but simply a truth that should not go unrecognized. But it was her, Love, and that’s what breaks my heart and forces tears to sting my eyes. It was her. And for the rest of my life as I love you, I will also love her and know that something (anything) happened. I just wish you had told me. But most of all I wish I hadn’t stayed up that very night thinking (and rightfully so) that something was happening between you two. I wish I hadn’t told you about these speculations. I wish I hadn’t asked you over and over and over again to tell me what happened that night. I wish I hadn’t bared witness to the two of you discussing your activities in code. I wish I hadn’t seen her having a private conversation with you at night in the kitchen. I wish I hadn’t seen those messages. I wish I had been ignorant and unaware from the beginning. Because then it wouldn’t hurt so much. And then you wouldn’t have had to lie. But what hurts me the most, beyond the lying and manipulation is you told me you were falling in love with me that night. And just like that, the most unblemished of all things - love - became blemished. You tainted it before its birth and placed a question mark in its future before it had time to grow. I wish you had known then what you know now about love because I dare say you would never have uttered those words and defiled those words in the very same night, had you known.

No matter our struggles, you changed my life. You showed me love and in the most tender of ways lifted me on the back of this love until I was close enough to God to feel it, too. You were a gift from whatever higher powers lords over all and guides us over the peaks and through the valleys and I will be forever thankful. I have had my doubts about our relationship from the beginning; my age and immaturity has not helped in the slightest and I believe to be as big a flaw in our relationship. But I come back to you, sometimes in person but always in spirit, because as my gift from God, you are cherished beyond all else. And for that reason, whenever you doubt my love for you, from now until your final days, know that my love for you resides in the depths of my spirit and even in my pain, my heart’s song of you is the sweetest of all tunes and I wouldn’t dream to hear it fade away.

I love you with everything I am,
Me, age 21

Dear People of Boston,

I’m sorry people let off bombs in your town. If I could go back and stop the bombs I would. I’m sorry you have to deal with all of this. I know this was not expected for the bombs to happen.  Special people in your lives were killed. I was scared to run my 5K but now I’m not. Scary things happen with so much unexpected notice.  People got killed left and right. 

I’m sorry for Martin because he was so young.  To die at the age of eight years old is hard to imagine and I’m sure extremely difficult for his family.  They must struggle and have problems and don’t have a lot of excitement for birthday parties.  So sorry Boston, with all the moms and dads and kids and other people getting hurt.  I hope it does not happen again.  I wish that you had a chance to say goodbye to loved ones or friends and family. 

I’m just sorry to hear that the bombs happened and killed and angered people. Sorry for people in Boston.  Hope now everything is going on good and everything is safe for you. I’m very, very sorry.

Love,
Haven, age 8

Dear good friend,

It’s funny that our friendship started with one random question.
One question about a jacket.
That jacket had a logo that I recognized.
That logo I knew was a summer camp logo, from Camp Baldwin.

Every day you would walk into the classroom with that jacket but I never asked about it, until finally one day we were painting the class mural and I decided what the heck. So I asked the question that would start our friendship.

“Did you go to Camp Baldwin?” I asked.
“Yeah, my mom is the camp director,” you told me.
“Wow, that’s cool. It was the first summer camp I went to.” I told you.

From that day on, I pestered you with questions about the camp. You answered every question with ease.

I don’t think that you know this, but you were my first new friend at this school. I know I never told you this, but thank you for all the laughs throughout our friendship. I have never really had a friend like you. I just wish that I would have asked that question sooner rather than later, because maybe just maybe, we could have had even more laughs and more of those moments when we hear a word and burst out laughing. Only if I would have said those six little words, we could have had a greater friendship. Even though we had our ups and downs (never really downs), we still make the best friends ever. Thank you.

From your friend, age 14

Dear Rose,

I’m writing this letter to tell you how much I’ve missed you. I think of you all the time. Last year Howie told me Larry was taking over and that we’d move to San Diego. Even though I didn’t want to be far from you, I was glad I wasn’t responsible any longer for the house. 

I have missed you dearly. I keep asking Howie to take me to you. Larry is in charge and says, “I’m sorry, not today.”

This last year has been horrible for me. I have fallen down four times and wound up in the hospital. I have been moved two times, and Larry won’t let me live with him. The food is terrible and I have no Jewish People to talk to.

I can’t see or hear very well and, I can’t think clearly or remember well, but Howie and Larry visit all time. Howie gives me a haircut and Larry brings me chocolate. 

For the last two weeks, I’ve been in a nursing home and they won’t let me leave because I am not well yet. Today I feel very sick. I do not know why, it is not like anything I have felt. I told Larry to take me to the hospital. I said that I need to write you a letter. I think I will see you soon.

I want to live, but living like this is miserable. I would rather be with you, Rosie. I love and miss you.

Jack, age 66

Dear Alex,

You were the most amazing person I’ve ever met. It’s been nine years since I heard your squealy laugh, or watched you smile and giggle the moment you heard Blue’s Clues come on TV. But you’re still deep in my heart, and in my thoughts.

I loved you from the moment I met you, and made up my six year old mind to protect you from everything- to keep you safe. You were my best friend, even though you rarely spoke aside from the occasional “I go”, but I knew you were always listening. During the toughest times in my life, I always knew I could make you laugh and giggle, and everything was a little less bleak.

I remember when you’d be laying on your mat on the floor and I wanted to surprise you, so I’d tiptoe down the stairs only to hear you explode with happy squeals. You always knew it was me, and I’d just giggle and kick the wall. You always saw much more than anyone gave you credit for, didn’t you? I regret a lot of what you saw and heard. I regret not being able to stop the fighting from Mom and Dad, or the stupid doctors talking about you like you were just a lump. I tried my best though, and I always tried to cover your ears whenever they said the “D” word.

You were only supposed to be with us for two years, according to the doctors- but, you had other plans. You graced us with your light for six whole years and, as I got older, the more I wanted to protect you. You meant so much to me, and I’m sorry I wasn’t always there. I had to take care of Mom, and we both know how she can be. I used to be so angry. So angry at myself because I couldn’t stop what I knew would eventually come. Like watching a friend get hit by a train in slow motion, but you can’t push them out of the way because your feet are stuck in dry concrete.

I remember when Mom stuck you in that awful hospice. I hated it! I couldn’t see you as often as I wanted, and it got to me. Remember when I sneaked in through the garden? I hated that you were alone a lot of the time as you got sicker. But, of course, I wasn’t in control of that.

I’ve come to terms with a lot of things, and I even finished the book I was reading when Mom called and told me you’d passed. It was that book about the time travelling cat I used to read you. I remember the last time I saw you. You were so tired, but I wanted so badly for you to stay awake so I could sing and play with you. I was only twelve, but I think I knew that I’d never see you again. I’d never be able to hug you, or breathe in the perfume of your hair, or hold you in my arms. I wish I would have been able to go to your funeral. I wish so badly that I could go back in time and be there. I was so angry, and I hated myself for such a long time. But seeing you at the wake was too much for my twelve year old self to handle, and I came down with an intense flu. I used to think that the gods hated me; they took you from me, and now I couldn’t even be present for you? I loved you so much, and I still do. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t help you more than I did. I wanted to wrap myself around you in hopes that no one could ever take you from me. But I know that’s not how it works and it would never had been fair to you.

I’m not angry anymore, but I always miss my sanctuary. I never got to tell you, but you were my best friend. You were my saving grace, turning all of my young anger and hatred toward my life into light and love. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you for being my baby brother.

I still hate good-byes. So…

Later Gator,
Sissy, age 21

Dear Katie,

Yesterday was supposed to be our original wedding day (4/20). I saw this on the CBS Sunday News Morning Show (one of your favorites and mine as well) and instantly thought of you. I understand your disdain and bitterness towards me. I completely failed us, and I hope you will one day think good thoughts of me and our time together. Here are some things I would like to say to you if I had the chance.

1) Thanks for giving me a second chance. I’m sorry I failed us.

2) Thanks for teaching me the meaning of unconditional love and sacrifice. I will always cherish our time together.

3) I wasn’t looking for anyone when I met you but I fell in love because:

You are an angler with the appropriate fishing jacket and flapper
You are a bourbon drinker (albeit a novice one)
You are dedicated to your family and friends
You are an avid reader
You are a dedicated Christian
You are an above-average Karaoke singer
You are a talented sales representative
You are a dog and squirrel lover
You are a brilliant woman with incredible potential
Your gregarious personality is addictive
You are incredibly witty and hilarious
You are my partner and best friend.

I miss you and love you terribly.
Me, age 41

My dear son,

It’s been most of a year now since cancer took you from me.  I had never had to deal with death before, not up close.  I was so occupied in caring for your sickness that I wasn’t prepared for your death.  I wasn’t prepared to have the biggest part of my life ripped away.  It was my job to help you prepare to die, but I didn’t know what to say.  When you needed me most, I couldn’t find anything to give you.  Somehow you were given wisdom and courage equal to the need.  It turned out that you made things easier for me.

None of it makes sense to me, even now.  Some people told me that you had gone to a better place.  You did, of course.  But it’s not for other people to say where you should be.  They have no idea how much it hurt me to hear them say that.  This world wasn’t a very good place for you, even before you got sick, and you knew that better than anyone.  I don’t understand as much about God as I once thought I did, but there are some things I’m still sure about.  As God knows my heart, I never wanted this to happen to you, and I’m sure He didn’t either.

I had never grieved before.  Once in a while I was sorry to see someone go, but that wasn’t grief.  I’ve learned that losses are all different, even among parents, and that everyone grieves in his or her own way.  For me, grief has been almost polite, waiting until I can give it my attention.  When I can be alone and think about you and think about what we went through together, it’s easy to let go and cry.  Grief is always with me and never far from the surface.  I’m not afraid of grieving.  It’s something that makes me feel close to you.  And you deserve my tears.

I’m trying to go on with what’s left of my life here, but it’s really, really hard.  I have a lot of good memories of things we were always doing together—playing with the cats, watching TV, going out to get junk food.  I want to get back to some of the Mario and Zelda video games we played together.  Every Saturday morning when I listen to “Car Talk” on the radio while driving around looking for yard sales, a little bit of you is still riding shotgun with me.

For now, I’m holding on to the good memories and letting go of the bad ones.  Good memories, though, will never be enough.  You’re more than my memories.  Someday, before long, we’ll be back together, the cancer will be gone, and your mind will be clear and peaceful and your own.  I can’t wait to get to know the real you.

Love,
Dad, age 59

After the terrible tragedies that happened this week in Boston and West, Texas, CBS Sunday Morning will air the segment we recorded about regret and the importance of valuing each and every moment that we share with others. Please check your local listings and tune in tomorrow morning! 

Grandpa,

What I would have said was that I love you. What I would have said was how much I appreciate that you were always there for me. There are so many things I would have said, but I just didn’t know how, or when.

The last time I talked to you, you were dressed in white with beeping machines all around you. You looked so weak and scared. And at the time what I didn’t realize was that you weren’t going to come home.

The morning I found out you had passed, all these emotions were running through my head. I felt like I had been holding on to a burning rope for so long, and I finally couldn’t take it anymore, so I let go. When I did, there were scars, scars that will never fade away.

When I think about you, a memory flashes into mind of those summer afternoons when I would come into the house dripping with pool water, to get a drink or whatever else my little mind had to do. You would be sitting in your red chair ready to ask, “How’s the water?” (like you always did) and I would say, “Good” just out of habit. But I can’t tell you how much it meant to me, because I never got the chance. It never really crossed my mind that I should actually sit down and talk to you, because soon you wouldn’t be sitting in your red chair anymore.

When I think about you, I see your crazy brown hair always combed back, and your Harry Potter glasses! I see a tall, strong man who always cracks jokes! When I think about you, I simply see you.

There were so many things I wanted to say to you when you were in the hospital. I wanted to give you a big hug and never let you go, but I couldn’t. No words can explain how much of a hole appears in my chest when I think about all the things I didn’t say to you. I guess now you know some of them, huh?

What I’ve been trying to say is that I love you, and that you’re not forgotten. All this time I have been regretting not saying all the things I could’ve. But now I know I can, and I did. I hope you now know…that you will always be my red chair memory.

Hannah, age 13

Dear Jack,

If I could go back to our last night together and tell myself how special what we had was, I would have fought for it.

Back then, we needed our space, but now when I see you and talk to you about the little things in life, I know that despite the fact that we aren’t together, we have still found the same things and come to the same conclusions. We could have been so happy together, we could have helped each other grow. And now we are going to separate colleges to become new people and have a fresh start. But all I want to do is go back in time and be with you.

You say you will always care about me and I know that should be enough. After all, I pushed you away in the youth of our happiness. But I wish we were more. I wish you had fought for me. If I could, I would persuade you to let me back into your life as more than just a friend. You truly are the only person who I feel comfortable around and I miss you. 

I’m not ready to say goodbye, even though you already have. 

Maybe in two years, I won’t remember your smell or your laugh and I can move on. And maybe I’ll find somebody new at college who lives up to you. But I doubt that will happen, because you are my first love and my best friend. 

So goodbye, and good luck,

I still love you,
Lexi, age 18

Dear P,

It was never my intention to fall in love with you.

The truth is, when I met you, I really thought I was just some mid-life crisis for you–your last hoorah before you realized you wanted to settle down. I believed that a man like you was simply trying to recapture his youth with a woman 18.5 years his junior, and then, when he realized how immature, insecure, and clueless about life I was, you’d disappear like a thief in the night.

But you stayed. Week after week, month after month. You gave me the things men of my past dangled in front of me but couldn’t deliver: commitment, honesty, warmth, effort. You were my knight in shining armor, sent by the forces of the world to save me from myself. And I fell in love. So, so deeply in love. With your intelligence. Your articulateness. The grays in your hair. The video updates you made for work and that movie-star sparkle in your eye. I fell for the way you’d remember that I liked my coffee black, with a single ice cube. With the kale smoothie you made me (and the way you really tried to like them too). With the way your sheets smelled, and the way you didn’t get mad at me when I got my make up all over them. I lived for the days when I got to see you fall asleep and wake up - opening one eye at a time. I was completely enamored.

But all that love I felt was too much, too soon for this 21 year old. I simply wasn’t ready for everything I was feeling, or so I thought. I’d often think about the way you’d joke that I would have to take care of you one day or soon push you around in a wheelchair. I‘d think about how in five years, I’d be 26 years old, at the height of my life, and you, 45, already well-seasoned and past the bumps I’d only experience for the first time. And that terrified me.

So I pushed you away. I closed the door to my heart the only way I knew how–by acting like a child. I’d pick fights with you over everything. I’d fight with you over why you never told me you loved me, when I knew quite well that you did through your gestures and actions. I’d pick fights with you over the waitress, when I knew you couldn’t care less about who she was or what she looked like. I, regrettably, wanted to show you that you were wasting your time with me – so you did what any self-respecting man would do, and you believed me.

And then you left. You said you couldn’t deal with me anymore. I had worn you down. You weren’t a fighter.

And there I was, wounded by my own actions, guilty of pushing away a man I truly loved – the only man that shared my passion for liberal politics, academia, financial news, NPR, TV and film, poetry, food, culture, and semicolons. You were so much older than me, but you treated me like an equal, and I cannot thank you enough for all the patience you showed me, the lessons you taught me, and the positive contributions you made to my life. 

I see now that it shouldn’t have mattered to me when I met you or how old you were. All that should have mattered was that I met a man that filled me with such love and adoration that I should’ve just trusted my feelings and loved him the way he deserved to be loved.

I want you to know that I am ready. I am ready to let my guard down. I am ready for mature love. I am ready to build my life with you. To have children, be a wife, make you coffee (for once), and to learn and grow together.

Unfortunately, I fear that I have irreversibly broken our bond and relationship—and that I am too late. The tables have now turned: the door to your heart has closed and I may never be able to enter again.

I know a part of you still believes I am the one for you. I know a part of you wants me to be in your future. I know a part of you knows that we can make each other very happy. I hope that part of you comes back to me. I know that you’re going to need time to let me back into your life. But I also know that, now, it’s my time to be patient. 

If and when you need me, I’ll be here – growing and working on myself. I just want you to know, my door is open.

Always and forever.
Toosh, age 21

Dear Dad,

The rubber tire of a bike rides along the pavement, grabbing each and every little rock that builds the ground to stay standing, but every time I manage to fall. That’s when you come rushing to see if I’m okay. You and I both know I’m fine, so toughing it out is the way to go. I get back on and you grab the back of the seat and handlebar to get me going. I’m screaming, “DADDY, DADDY DON’T LET GO! DON’T LET GO!” You say you won’t every time. Until the sixth time, I repeat myself, and you reply the same. But this time, it’s different. I feel different. Almost as if I am flying. Like I could go anywhere. 

I thought you were still behind me, but you were all the way back where we started, watching. I got scared and fell. I was fine thinking you were still holding the seat, but I look back and my confidence falls to the ground. Like I did. Like I always do. I always have been falling to the ground all my life. You were always there to come running to pick me up when I fell. 

I wish I would have said thank you for all the times you picked me up when I was down. I wish I’d said, “I love you dad,” like I meant it, other than having it come out sounding like I just had to say it. But dad, every time I said it, I really did mean it.

I regret not coming to you about things. Instead you found out from my mom, not from me. Even though it doesn’t it doesn’t seem like a big deal, I knew it hurt you deep down. You were thinking I didn’t trust you or you weren’t easy enough to talk to. Or it could have seemed like I didn’t want to talk to you, when in all reality, I wanted to tell you things. Things that were on my mind, or things that I was going through. It seems everytime I go to maybe talk to you, I catch you in a horrible mood every time. So I just brush it off and don’t say anything about it. I also just needed a girls’ perspective; I would come and ask you for advice and you would say to just brush it off, or to tell them off. But dad, like I told you in the past, that wouldn’t work in the girls life. It’s more ignoring than telling them off, and I just can’t brush it off. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you, but dad, I love you. I mean it.

Carly, age 14

Dear you,

There is so much I want to say, and finding that beginning point isn’t always easy, but I’m going to make it as easy as possible for us both.

It’s been a long time since I have such a good laugh, and trust me, it was much needed.

This time, I’m not going to be quiet about how I’m feeling.

You are an amazing friend, and I feel blessed to have you in my life.

I cannot express how grateful I am that you take the time to listen and feel every word that I can possibly express.

It makes me so happy to know that there is someone, somewhere, in this world that actually gives a damn about what I have to say. 

Thank You. Thank You. Thank You.

I show you this side of me because I completely trust my words with you.
Hold them in the palm of your hand and keep them safe from this chaotic world.

These past three days have been absolutely stellar. Each moment has been accounted for.

Promise that you will always keep in touch.

Your new yet old friend,

Me, age 35