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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Love stories / Romance
- Subject: Memory / Reminiscence
- Published: 08/18/2020
Love letters aren't always written.
Born 1951, M, from Wilmington NC, United States.jpeg)
“I love you. I do. I always will. I miss you.”
That could be the opening, or closing phrase from almost any love letter- whether you were thirteen, thirty or ninety years old.
I remember a love letter, written to a daughter back during the Civil War. I forget the Author, but maybe one of you readers will know. The language seems stilted to us Modern Readers, but remember, back in the 1860’s it might take three months to get a letter- maybe longer if you were writing from England to someone in America.
Here is the opening to that letter:
"My dearest daughter Delilah,
I hope you are opening this on the Veranda as the sun rises. For the day, like this letter, is an unknown. As you unfold the pages, what delights, or thoughts will reveal themselves? First as twilight shadows, then lightly blurred by the morning mist, and finally, like the day, sunlight will burn off the dregs of sleep, leaving you clearsighted, warm, and safe.
The grass will still have the morning dew sparkling like diamonds strewn about in the grass. A sight I wish I could share with you…and know that when I think of you, you sparkle more than any diamond could.
I want your day to unfold like this letter, with unexpected thoughts, smiles, perhaps even a bit of laughter. The unknown, and unknowable fighting to claim your attention. Will today be the day that your Beau admits his love for you? Will that afternoon buggy ride bring you to Town to meet a new friend? Will the cloth I sent for you and your Mother finally arrive so that you can both start on your gowns for the end of Summer Ball?
We don’t know yet. The day is still new, fresh, undiscovered…just like the pages of this letter you haven’t turned to yet. So pardon me for asking you to set the letter down for a moment. A moment where you just enjoy being you. I shall cherish that moment in my own way. “
The letter goes on, and like many letters of that era, inquired about business deals, farm life, music and the health of assorted friends and family. The tone never changed tho…he was talking to his daughter- and the love was evident throughout.
Some folks can’t write letters that capture the emotions they are feeling- so they turn to a song, or music that comes close to those feelings, and they ask the other person to listen to the Lyrics…and that is their love letter.
Sometimes, words get in the way. The Picture I chose for this “story” is a love letter. It is a Grandma and her Grandson sitting on the porch watching the sun come up. Quite a conversation is taking place in their silent companionship. Years later he will remember sitting on that porch next to Nanny- even if he doesn’t remember what they said. Years later she will never forget sitting on the porch with him…even if she can’t remember what was said. A true love letter.
I once came home from the Army to my girl. When we met at the airport, tears sprung to both our eyes- we embraced in a crushing grip that squeezed out an unspoken “I love you.” We both laughed when almost without effort we both said: “Ow” at the same time. The second hug was much more gentle.
My Kathy was laying in the bed with our first born child on her stomach. All the Nurses and Doctors had left. One hand of Kathy’s cradled our new baby - the other held my hand. Kathy was groggy and going in and out of near sleep. I sat quietly next to the bed, alternating between looking at the most beautiful woman I know, and the most beautiful baby I had ever seen.
Kathy’s eyes fluttered open for a second, and caught my unabashed look of love at our small family. She squeezed my hand. Her eyes brimmed a bit as we shared that look that comes from the miracle of birth- then she closed her eyes and slept. Another Love Letter.
One of my old buddies asked if I could drive him to his Mother and Father’s grave. He didn’t think he would be in any shape to drive after seeing the Headstones. I said sure.
He had a Letter in his hand, folded neatly. It was on expensive writing paper, the kind that has watermarks and is usually reserved for truly deserving cursive writing. The kinds of words that leak poetry or wisdom belong on that kind of paper. Or words of longing, or grief.
When we got to the grave site, he took out the paper, unfolded it and I saw his lips move. It was a private moment…so I stepped away. After a few minutes I saw him bend down and put the letter on top of the tombstone. He turned and looked at me for a minute. Not seeing me, but whatever vision was in his mind when he read the letter to them.
That look shook me. It had a lifetime of experiences and words unsaid, or should have been unsaid- and all the words that were said too. It was a lifetime in a moment.
He waved me away and just walked down the worn path between graves. I noticed the letter had blown off of the tombstone. I bent to pick it up. I couldn’t help myself, I read it. That didn’t take very long.
All it said was: “Mom, Dad, I wish you knew how much I loved you.”
I folded it and pushed it into the flower pot. I called my Mom that night. For the first time since I was in Grade School, I told my Dad I loved him.
I was in an airport one time long ago. Across from my gate was an elderly couple that both walked with canes. They had stopped to rest on the seats provided for handicap folks. They let go of their canes to hold hands. A moment later there was a clatter as their canes fell onto the floor.
Neither of them could bend far enough to down to retrieve the canes from the floor in front of them. Hundreds of people were walking by in a rush to get to their Gate in time to catch their plane. Dozens of them stopped long enough to try and pick up the canes for the Elderly couple. Even after the canes were safely back in the old couples hands, a dozen or so travelers stayed nearby to help them get up out of the chairs.
I was never more proud to be a Human Being. Busy people took time to care. It was a love letter.
Sometimes Love letters come as a look. Sometimes a gentle hand on a shoulder with no words. Sometimes they come disguised as flowers, or an unexpected check to help out with groceries. Sometimes they come as things left unsaid, or masked with forgiveness.
And sometimes they come from the mouth of babes…like this last example of a love letter.
Our Grandson was told that the dog he used to help watch and take for walks for his entire little life- died. He struggled with the concept of death. That you don’t come back. Some folks tried to reassure him that the dog went on to something better, something nicer.
He looked at them and said: “Maybe when you die, you go to somewhere nicer. But it won’t be as nice.. here.. without you.”
And that is its own love letter.
I hope that memories of your own love letters are creeping out of the hidden alcoves of your mind, to slide open the curtains of memory so the full joy of loving someone in your life, or your past, glows in the bright light of fondness.
Smiles, Kevin
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