The Things You Would Have Said

My first baby, my first love,

I wish I could tell you: I know I’m a loser. I know I gave up. I got defeated. I did not know my rights. They stole you from me, and I thought I deserved it. 

Gavin, I left you at home and went two blocks down the road to get some Tylenol PM because I was drunk and you were asleep. I got pulled over and went to jail. It was so stupid. I don’t know why I left, I really thought I would be back in five minutes. I hate myself for what I did. I’ve never told Grandma or Grandpa, but that is what happened, and now you know.

Maybe I really did deserve to lose you. I’m so sorry, baby. That’s why I got so screwed up on drugs, I gave up. That’s why I never fought to get you back; I thought I deserved to get you taken away, but you never deserved that. My life has been so bad since then. Even though I have two other children, you are my heart, my soul, my first true love. I wish I would have known better, I would have done better. I just pray we haven’t lost too much time.

I know our relationship will never be what it could have been, but I love you with all my heart and hope that you can forgive me for giving up and not fighting for our life.

I’m sorry son,
Your mom, age 35

Grandma,

I made a promise to myself last summer to see you as often as I could because, well to be honest, you were my favorite person to talk to. We would tell each other how messed up the world was and how we would make a change. We’d stay up late watching old TV shows and talking about the old times you had with Grandpa. I always dreamed of having a love like yours. I couldn’t wait for the semester to be over so we could spend a lot of time together, but once it ended, I started to pick up more hours at work. I should’ve just said no to work in the beginning.

One morning in early June, I had got a text from Rachael saying that you weren’t doing good, and that I had better come visit you at your house because Donna and Tim would be taking you to the hospital. I knew that you had a little stomach bug earlier that week, because I was supposed to come spend the night with you but you told me you weren’t feeling good. In my head, I felt it was nothing serious and that we would get our sleepover soon. But in reality, when I went to your house, I lost it. You weren’t yourself. You were just skin and bones, you couldn’t walk or go to the bathroom by yourself and you weren’t conscious of people surrounding you. I didn’t understand what happened and I don’t think you knew either.

You should’ve seen Mom; it tore her apart that she wasn’t in the state when you were in the hospital. She loved you and respected you so much. It ripped apart my heart seeing her so upset. When I would visit you in the ICU, I tried spending as much time as I could with you because at that time, I wasn’t sure how much time I would get. The doctors weren’t even sure if you were going to make it throughout your first night because your body was rejecting the liquids being put into it. Somehow, in my heart, I knew you were one to fight and you’d make it. You were the strongest woman I knew and Mom definitely takes after you and Grandpa a lot.

I made a hard decision during your last week. I had to decide if I wanted to go to Florida to spend time with T.J. and his family and see you a week and a half afterwards, or to stay with you. I wanted to go to Florida to take a nice break from everything going on, but I knew that I would hate myself more if I would’ve gone and something were to happen to you so I chose to stay by your side. I realized that I never appreciated everything that you’ve done for me and the rest of the family as much as I should have and it hurts me still. When I got word that you had a double hernia and made it through surgery, I gained hope in that you’d recover, but then things got worse. When you had the massive heart attack, I knew that it wouldn’t be long until you were gone from this world and I couldn’t wrap my head around it. The doctors brought you back to life twice and by that time, I just wanted you to rest easy because in my heart I knew you couldn’t fight this battle forever; the odds were against you, unfortunately.

When you passed, part of me had a hard time accepting it but felt relieved that you were in Grandpa’s arms now, that you were safe, but I just needed a sign. The night that you passed, after we all got home from the hospital, Barb sent us a picture of this rain shadow that was in the form of a heart and I knew it was you letting me know you were with Grandpa and that you were okay and safe.

Honestly, I still find myself crying a lot at night wishing that I could come to your house and tell you about my good grades and about how my music is going. I didn’t even get to tell you the amazing opportunities I got this summer with my music. But I wrote a song about losing you and how I wish that I could’ve had you stay. When I played it at the biggest show of my life, I felt you there, smiling down on me and the sun came shining down and I knew you were there. Thank you for watching over me and keeping me safe. And even though you won’t be there physically for a lot of special moments, you will ALWAYS be in my heart.

All my love,
Megan, age 21

Hi,

I don’t know if you’re reading this. Sometimes I think you’re reading everything I write, watching everything I do, like an angel over my shoulder. And this whole disappearing act of yours was just an act, and you’re waiting for me somewhere.

I know I’ve made mistakes. But how could I ever forget about our phone calls when we both couldn’t get to sleep? I love you. I will never love another woman the same way again. It is impossible for me to get over you.

It would be manageable if you were around. If you gave me an e-mail every once in a while. Sure, you used to say you loved me as a friend…but is this what people do to friends that they love? Disappear forever?

In the words of Fort Minor, “Where’d you go? I miss you so. Seems like it’s been forever since you’ve been gone.” It’s true. I’m ready to share my life with you. If you want to be friends that’s okay, too. Just write.

Do you know what a soulmate is? It means your soul wasn’t born alone. In Hinduism, there’s the story of Sita and Rama. Sita tells him ‘You found me, just like you find me in every lifetime.’ That’s the way it’s been for millennia.

It’s been a weird and crazy few months since you left.

I miss you,
-H, age 23

Dear Sarge,

These are the words I never said. These are the words I can’t decide if I regret never saying.

Thank you for all you did for me. When we met, I was a shy little wallflower who’d forgotten what a real friend was. I became so involved in becoming someone I wasn’t in order to placate someone else, I forgot to be who I was. I’d forgotten to just be me and not be afraid I would push people away. I don’t think I ever did show you the true me. Instead, you only met the me trying to be someone who pleased everyone.

You taught me the truth about friendship; that it is about acceptance and mutual caring. You helped give me a sense of what I was missing. You helped me realize I’d lost myself.

Of course, I never told you any of this. I never thanked you, never told you what you or your friendship meant to me. I don’t know if I regret it or not. Part of me wishes I had because maybe I could have held onto our friendship for a little longer. Maybe we wouldn’t have lost touch so quickly. However, I do regret one thing: never letting you get to know the real me.

But I can’t live my life in regret, so I have to let go of it.

I’m a little lost again right now, old wounds rising to the surface. You’re not around to help me this time, but I have someone else now to guide me through it. This time, I think you might like to know, I didn’t make the same mistake. I told him what he’s done for me. I think we’re a little closer for it, too.

So thank you, again, for what you did for me all those years ago. Thank you for reaching out. There are parallels between now and then, but the difference is this time I’m giving back. This time I’m trying to show the real me.

I’m sorry I never showed you the real me–the silly, nerdy, adventurous side I kept hidden. But that’s in the past and I have to move on, regrets or not.

I’ll treasure the memories of our friendship as I move forward and I’ll never forget it. Now I’m saying goodbye to my past and hello to my future.

Thank you for picking me up when I was down, even if you never knew it.

Sincerely,
A Friend, age 23

Dear Dad,

Not a day goes by that I don’t find myself wishing I could hear your voice again. In the six weeks you spent in the hospital before you died, we spent more time together than we had in years. I knew when you asked to see your granddaughter at the hospital, instead of when you got home, you weren’t ever coming home. They said you had six months to a year to live, but in my heart I knew you didn’t.

I find myself regretting pushing you to do the chemo and radiation, when you said you didn’t want. You said you just wanted to go home and let come what may. I wanted to extend your life; I wanted you to WANT to extend your life. I didn’t want you to want to leave us. When Nana died, you gave up. She was your mother, your sun, moon and stars. You were an Italian son, she doted over you for your whole life and you were dedicated to her like you would never be to any other woman. It was barely three years later that you left us. When she passed, you let your health go and you were angry, all the time. It was hard to be around you and I admit I started to avoid you because there was no talking to you.

But during the weeks before you died, all we did was talk. You told me you were proud of me; you’d never said that. You said you made so many mistakes and I knew I had, too. But most of all you told me you loved me, which you’d barely said during my lifetime. As difficult as you were, you made me who I am today. You raised me when mom left and you taught me to be independent, and it has served me well. I go to your grave often and talk to you, but it’s the same hollow, empty silence. I close my eyes and try to hear your voice in my head, calling my name from the kitchen when I would walk into the door of your house. One day, I missed you so much that when I went down the basement of my house and breathed in, I smelled your house–the sauce simmering, the ravioli cooking–and I knew you did that to comfort me and let me know you are with me.

I miss you dad. I love you. And, I wish you had more time.

Tee, age 28