The Things You Would Have Said

Dad,

Well, it’s been 2 years since you’ve been gone and 19 years this month since the last time I talked to you.

I attended your funeral and all of your friends told me that you never stopped loving me. I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t; that wasn’t the place or the time to call them fools for believing you, but then you were always good at lying to people.  I really don’t believe that you did tell them that, I know that they were trying to console me.  You couldn’t tell me that you loved me but I’m to believe that you told your friends that you did?  Yeah, right. 

I was mad at you for dying and not giving us the chance to talk things through, mad at you for never getting to know your grandsons, mad at you for not telling me that you loved me, mad at you for taking away the chance from me to tell you that I loved you. Because whether we believe it or not, I do/did love you–you were my father–but after talking to so many people after your death it made me realize something. God you were such a jerk! 

I never understood why you couldn’t say I love you to me, but I think I can understand now, with the help of my therapist.  I looked too much like my mom and you hated her (or at least you told me you did), hated her for leaving you, somehow that hate passed on to me.  Don’t get me wrong, I know you loved me in your own way, you took care of me for 8 years by yourself, and you gave me everything that I could have wanted: clothes, cars, jewelry. But what you didn’t give me was something that I needed from you. I needed to hear those little words and you were so hard-headed that you couldn’t give them to me. The one thing that wouldn’t have cost you a dime and you couldn’t do it.

I know I hurt you when I left town, but you hurt me, too, dad. I was 19, pregnant and scared to death and you kicked me out because “people of our social status are not un-married and pregnant."  It really hurt looking at all of the photos at your funeral, seeing you holding a little boy.  Knowing that he was your girlfriend’s grandson and seeing you hold him when you never held your own grandchildren, that really hurt.  Fortunately for my boys, they didn’t go to your funeral, they didn’t see how much you were still hurting me even after you died.  In reality, I didn’t want them to go to the funeral, I didn’t want them to hate you anymore than they already do and to be quite honest, they didn’t want to go. They said they would go and be there for me if I wanted them to.  The oldest one said, "He didn’t want me around before I was born, why should I go and pretend to care that he’s gone?"  How could I argue with that?

Mom said that she talked to you the night you died, not in person but in her dreams. You came to her and apologized for everything: the lying, drinking, and cheating, and you told her that you had always loved her and that’s why you never re-married.  She told me of this "dream” before we knew that you had died because I didn’t find out until the day after.  I was waiting to see you in my dreams, but I’ve never seen you, so I’ve quit waiting.  Apparently, in death, like in life, it’s too much for you to tell me that you loved me.  Don’t worry, I’m slowly getting over it.  And thank you. Because of you, I tell my boys how much I love them and how proud I am of them and that no matter what happens I will always be there for them each and every day.

I am very proud of my boys.  I would have loved to tell you about them before you died, and I realize that I can tell you now, but I’m not going to, because I don’t think you deserve to know them.

I would sign off as “I Love You” but I’m not sure that those are the correct words, so I’m just going to sign off and maybe one of these days you will be able to let me know that you love me. But not to worry, I’m not going to hold my breath, because we all know that Hell couldn’t handle us both right now.

Your daughter,
T

Dear Mom,

Thank you for everything, from helping me with my black belt test to packing my lunch every day. You help me with my priorities and my homework. You work so hard by taking care of the family and making meals for us every day.

You always will spoil me, and even let me get a hamster even though you hate them. When I first wanted another pet, I wanted a turtle, not a hamster. But after talking to some people, I chose that I wanted a hamster instead. After saving up some money, and having dad say that he would pay for some of the stuff, we went to get a hamster. I brought my friend with me, since she knew a lot about hamsters. We drove to the store and got my hamster, a cage, and supplies. You didn’t like my hamster at first, but then you grew more affectionate to it. 

You will always keep me happy, and make holidays and birthdays perfect. You will always protect me, even for the smallest reason.

Sincerely,
Seth, age 23

To Kenny,

For years we have played this game of limbo, this game of timing being off and this game of hearts being broken, the pieces being used as a path to find our way back to ourselves. This is so hard to write because it feels like that means I am accepting it is true, this game: us. It will never get a chance to be played in the big leagues. No batters are going to line up and no fans will fill the stands, no popcorn will be passed out and nobody will receive that trophy. We won’t receive that trophy.

When we first met I was in love with your best friend, I thought of you as this guy with this beautiful heart that was so accepting and didn’t judge. You didn’t know who I was, but you accepted me. You became someone so important to my growth and so encouraging to that growth. You loved me then, at least you said you did. I wish for nothing more than to have kept all those messages that you sent me. I wish I had listened to you and left him. You have always been so easy to talk to and so easy to love that I notoriously lose myself in all the right ways when you are around. I become brave, I become fearless, and I become these things because you have guided me to become these things. I know I can trust you and I know you will be there to hold my hand and to jump, even if the water is going to be cold.

You have inspired me, the nice girl, to be more than that. To be wild and to have fun and to love like I have never loved before. You helped me find a passion I never thought I would feel. You are leaving soon and I want this letter to be ready before then, I want you to know where I stand before you leave. I want you to know that no matter where that road takes you, where you end up, if you pick a home on that road, a town to settle and find a life I would join you. I would move to that town because you would be there. I think we have always had something amazing, a connection you couldn’t just explain. I love you Kenny, and I have loved you since the first time we talked, since you got me to open up, since you got me to smile. I want amazing things for you, and if that means me, then great. If that doesn’t, that is okay, too.

All My Love,
Ashley, age 22

Dear Mom,

I am writing to you because I want you to know that I still love you. I know that you lost both me and Tim. I even wanted to let you know that I was the one that I was the cause of the file 51A. I am very sorry for this. I even regret this happening to you. When I found out that you stopped calling, I was heartbroken. I just wanted you to know that I was worried for my brother.

I even graduated from high school, and I still wished that you were there at my side. I even want you to know that I am doing fine. I even have a job. But I even admit that I still look into the past. Now I found out that the past is full of darkness. I want to forget the past and press on. 

Please forgive me for what has been done in the past. Free me of the worries, and the pain. Let God tell me that you are now okay, wherever you are.

Your Son,
Chris, age 25

P.S. Now that I have let it out, I can now let the past go, forget it, and press on.

P.P.S. To those who read this letter, thank you for reading it. I just want everyone to learn that forgiveness can go the distance.

Dear Daveta,

When I was in the eighth grade, I moved away from the home I had lived in San Jose since I was three. I started school in San Carlos at Tierra Linda, where everyday I ate lunch alone. I sat at the back of a classroom where the boys who sat toward the front laughed and threw spitwads to try to stick them in the holes of the acoustical ceiling every chance they got. I remember one day they made so much noise I didn’t hear the math homework assignment and had to raise my hand to ask Mr. Darley to repeat it. For some reason I will never understand: he walked all the way to the back of the class to slam a ruler hard against my desk, making such a horrific noise I involuntarily broke into tears. There was no one to commiserate with about this, and no one to even get the math assignment from.

As I wandered around the school, sometimes some of the spitwad-throwing boys would make remarks, as awkward eighth grade boys do about girls. And I felt vulnerable and unprotected.

Finally, one day I turned around and asked the girl behind me if I could eat lunch with her. She said she had another friend she usually ate with and had to check with her. When, after a few days, she had not given me an answer, I finally had the nerve to ask what their decision was. She said that she and her friend had decided two was company, three a crowd. So, I continued on alone.

It wasn’t too long after that that you, Daveta, asked me to have lunch with you. I remember I was so thrilled to have someone to walk around the field with after lunch. We made daisy chains, you taught me how to make gum wrapper chains, and I was not so lonely anymore.

Then one weekend my dad took us to the ice rink and I invited you along. There were some boys, high school boys with white T-shirts that they rolled up–the way some guys did and then sometimes stuck cigarettes into the cuffs–and “greaser” hair cuts. They knew and were very friendly with you and began to be friendly with me. They scared me and the fact that you seemed to know them so well also scared me. These were not boys I wanted to consider me a friend. From that time on, I refused to have lunch with you. I do not recall what I said about that to you, but I know I never ever thanked you so much for having kept me company for a while. I simply hung out, now, again, alone.

I learned, in high school, when I finally had met and made friends with some girls, that apparently the two major “cliques” of eighth grade girls had actually been vying for me as a potential member and, when they saw me having lunch with you, they considered me “unworthy” and no longer considered me as a possible member of either “clique.” They never, in the entire time I ate alone, had anyone within their cliques talk to me to find out anything about me. They judged me by whatever it was they had decided about you.

And me? I deserted you without explanation when you were the only one who ever stepped forward and asked me to eat with you when I was so alone. I just wanted to let you know that my behavior, my lack of explanation and subsequent desertion of you, is something that still comes to mind. I want to apologize and to thank you for taking that time with me. The circumstances of hanging out with you saved me from becoming part of a clique and left me, instead, to work out a variety of friendships across the span of high school, but what I did to you and how I treated you was not something I am proud of. I do not think you went on to the high school, so do not even know what happened to you after eighth grade. But I still thank you for stepping up to fill a void in my life at a time I really needed it.

Susan A., age 67

Jim,

Still missing you after 10 years!

I know we talked about everything during our time together (20+ years). We laughed, argued, and had so much fun. You told me that you were afraid I would be alone the rest of my life after you left me, and you didn’t want that for me. You said I should have someone to love and take care of. I hate to say it but you were right. I am alone. I used my mother as an excuse for the first 3 years then she left me. No more excuses.

I did date but never found anyone. I thought I did twice but was wrong both times. I have been told I live in the past and I admit I do at times. I have now retired and am trying to fill that void of not working with so many other things. My family thinks I should move up with them (you know me, never going to happen). I need my independence, but I am lonely and I need your help. How do I let go and still hold on at the same time?

You said you don’t want me to be alone but you never told me how to move on. It is so good to know you knew I loved you and I knew you loved me. I wish more people understood how important it is to say things to the people you love before they go! 

I guess I just wish at times you were wrong and I was with someone who appreciates me. Maybe I set my standards too high and compare them to you, which I try hard not to do. 

I again wish you had told me how to move on before you left. You were my love and soul mate. They say you have only one soul mate but I have also heard there is a good possibility you could have two. 

Love you always.
Jackie, age 67