One Last Letter

 


One last letter? Wow. At the end of this month, the Danish postal service will no longer accept letters. It's focus will only be on packages. It shouldn't come as such a shock because this is the way of the world. I haven't written a letter since the year 2000. It was to my father and regrettably it was rather snarky. Oddly it was about the decline of the postal service. My father had been a mail carrier for thirty years. He went to work every single day, which started in the early morning hours. My father and I butted heads most of my life. When he and my mother moved to Ohio after suffering various health conditions he would send cards and write short notes in his beautifully elegant handwriting. In the last card he wrote he finished by writing that mom is doing well and he sends his love. Instead of calling a truce, that card made me angry. Not once in the thirty four years of my life did he tell me he loved me. Not that he didn't. It just wasn't said, to any of us. 

So, The Guardian asks, if you had only one last letter to write, who would you write it to?

Dear Dad,

Do you remember this Christmas? Look at all the cards on the door! After you and Mom read the news from distant relatives and friends you hadn't seen in years, I was in charge of finding a spot for them. I haven't sent out Christmas cards in years. I wish the tree had been photographed by gramps. I think this was the year I caught you and Mom wrapping last minute presents while talking quietly and listening to Christmas music on the radio. Mom loved to match the babies in their dresses, didn't she? That was the year I gained weight and hated myself and hated that red outfit. Do you remember walking in on me earlier that day when I stood before the mirror in the bedroom and cried because I felt so ugly? You didn't say anything but I could see in your eyes how sad you were. I was embarrassed and ashamed. I think I wanted assurance that everything would be ok. It was also the year of the blizzard. Oh my gosh. Do you remember when the power went out and we had to spend the night with one of your coworkers? The drive through the snow packed roads was so stressful even little baby sister remained quiet. We did get there and the kids played the game, Hands Down, while the adults drank whiskey with seven up and played poker. You made sure we were warm and safe during those days. You never said you loved us, Dad, but you showed us, time and time again that we mattered to you. I miss you and Mom. If  I could have just one more day, I'd take your hand in mine and say, thank you for your lovely letter. I love you, too.

Sincerely,

Maggie 

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