I hope this message finds you happy, healthy, and safe. We haven’t heard from you in such a long time, but I believe that you’re somewhere out there on Cloud 9 or 10. I bet you’re wondering why I’m writing you a letter online. I can almost see your face with that sarcastic smirk and reading classes on the tip of your nose, poised to poke fun at me for writing a sappy letter. I’m writing online in hopes that you’ll get the message sooner. Snail mail is so slow, and it could take a lifetime for this one to get to you.
With Thanksgiving, your birthday, and Christmas all fast approaching, I wanted to drop you a line, or in this case, send up a smoke signal to tell you how much I miss you. All is well on the home front. Your mom died a few years ago. So did Jah, Uncle Jack, and Uncle Bay-Bay, but I suspect you know that already.
It’s been a while since I’ve thought of you, but it’s funny how I get unexpected reminders sometimes to let me know that you’re a part of me–tucked securely in my heart. A funny thing happened the other day. I was in a department store buying perfume. I didn’t really know what I wanted — just something subtle and sweet. I was out of Pleasures, so I needed to get more of that as well as a new signature scent for the new year. Just as the cashier started ringing me up, I heard you laughing, and my heart stopped. My eyes welled with tears. I dropped everything and ran in the direction of the laugh. I didn’t see you, but I could still hear you laughing in the distance, possibly leaving the store. I was like a hound trained on that laugh, barking your name, but you eluded me. I dropped to the floor in anguish — a pitiful shell of a woman — heartbroken once again. Where did you go? Were you even there?
That same cashier found me, helped me to my feet, and led me to the counter to ring me up. Then I gave her the same look you’re giving me for insisting that I make a donation to something so that I can get a free tote bag. Huh? I’m a teacher. How ’bout I just donate a tote?
I softened my scowl, secured my glasses to the bridge of my nose rather than the tip, and used my best manners to say, “No thank you, honey. I can’t afford the luxury of yet another tote bag.” You would’ve been proud — just the right amount of sarcasm and a sheepish grin.
I drove home just fine. It was almost as if the car knew its way. I parked, walked upstairs, and dropped to my knees to pray. I needed a word from God to assure me that all is well. What he left me with was a bible verse that lets me know you got my letter.
For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways ~ Psalm 91:11
I got the message.
Beautiful words! I’m sorry for your loss, but I’m sure he enjoyed your letter. All the best and be strong!
Thank you for the kind, encouraging words. This is a letter to my cousin. We were raised as siblings. Honestly, it’s been 20 years since he physically left us, but never stop missing those we love. Right?
When it’s about losing people or beings we love, even time has problems in helping us heal the pain…
Death can’t stop love. Life may change in so many ways, but the love you had, shared, gave, will always be there – tucked securely in your heart. I miss my mom’s love, her smile, the sound of her voice, and even her advice, which now I admit was usually right. Beautifully written letter. Thank you for sharing.
Kathy, I can’t even imagine that loss. As my mom ages, I beg her to move in with me, but she always refuses. She doesn’t want me to see all the changes that have happened over the years. As they say, the years have not been kind. I will pray for you as your heart continues to mend.