The Unsendable Letter

Dear Grammie,

It’s been a year in a half since you died. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about you. I miss your phone calls, the visits, how you felt naked without earrings, your baked beans. I inherited your love to travel. Your smile was perfect.

The last couple of years were so hard. You had a stroke. Your strength got you through. Our family huddled around you, we were so worried you wouldn’t be okay. One day, you fell. That day was the day you decided to go on hospice care. They took you off your medicine and you decided to die at home to be with your family.

My final visit was bittersweet. Our family huddled together do anything to make you comfortable. Guests brought dishes like lasagna or macaroni and cheese. Did they really think I wanted to eat in a time of distress?

Our last goodbye was bittersweet. I went into your room. You were eating lobster bisque through a sponge yet you were smiling. I kissed you one last time. Your cheek was cold. You held my hand and said “I love you, stay strong”. I ran outside and cried on the doorstep.

Even now as I write this. I’m sobbing. I’m sorry I haven’t been as strong as you were. I’ll try. I miss you and love you. Watch down on me from heaven. Happy 92nd birthday!

Send me a sign of some kind. Please. I want something to know your still there.

Xoxo

Abbie

Dear Jared,

I was so loyal. I was loyal and I loved you, and only you.
Apparently, me loving you just wasn’t enough.
Apparently I’m no better than a text message.
I don’t deserve a face to face explanation of why we’re breaking up. Not even a phone call. A text message. That’s what I get.
Or maybe, maybe it’s because you don’t have the spine to hear my voice, see my face.
I really wish I could pinpoint this on you, not me.
Maybe I fucked up.
Sorry. I’m not perfect, but for you, I always tried.

Have you forgotten about me?

I miss you sometimes. Well, most times. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten a note. Needed you to know I care. I still care. You were so close. You don’t need to start again because of the words of a jerk. Ignore him. You’re stronger than that- I know that’s a fact. Remember, I’ll always love you.

Dear Julia,

I’m trying real hard for you.
I love you. I’m trying. I don’t put in effort for anyone. Anyone other than you. So Jay, mark my words; I’m trying.

Any second now…

… my brain will stop thinking of you as a maybe-sometime-in-the-future-if-I’m-lucky lover, and will switch into friend mode. 

It’ll be better for us, separately, and our relationship, together.

I can focus on me, you can focus on you. 

It’ll be better for us. 

Or so I keep telling myself.

Any second now.

Here we go.

Any second.

[shit.]

Dear W

I miss our conversations, your humor, snarky comments about my movie choices, your cute smile, your clumsiness, your blue eyes and above all.. I miss you.

We haven’t talked in a while. I’m wondering if you’re dating someone? Chances are, the answer is yes. Maybe that’s why you’re not so talkative?  But I don’t care.

Because somewhere deep inside of me I hope that we can be together one day, as lovers.

There I said it. Lovers.

That you can see past my insecurities. When I behave a certain way, it doesn’t mean, that I find you annoying, it’s just that I’m terribly insecure and not sure what to do with that. One of those insecurities; feeling way below your standard.

You ignoring me and being distant, doesn’t really help the situation, does it?

Yeah I’m weird sometimes and I have issues.

But so do you.

The only difference is that I’m willing to take babysteps to do something about it.

If you will, coincidentally, read this post, you’ll know who I am. 

If you’ll read this, please, let me know you care about me somehow, cause I know you did before. And hope that you still do.

You know how to reach me.

Love,

You-know-who

Dear Will

Though we have been dating for a while, I haven’t told you how I felt about you.  I’m so sorry.  You have used the ‘L’ word but I could just never return it.  I don’t use that word.  You are wonderful and I am so lucky you’re mine.  You are so interesting, I could listen to you talk all day, I’m enchanted by your smile and the way you roll up your sleeves when you have something important to say.  The way your eyes sparkle when we talk, that dumb smirk you get when I do something dumb.  I adore how spontaneous you are.

 But I hate that you make me feel this way.  I still get butterfly’s when we touch and we have been dating for a year! I was by myself for so long, independent and fine with no one, and then you came along and did some dumb things and now I feel like this.  I want to have long conversations with you and make-out with your face at the same time.  I never thought this was possible.  I hate you for this Will, but I love you.

Darling Dear.

Now, you know I’m not like you.
Not a cheater I mean. There’s tons of differences between us. Don’t get me started on it. But that’s what I’m talking about this time.
You have a girlfriend. And I have a boyfriend.
But when we hopped off the plane a week ago and you said, “What happens here, stays here.”, well, maybe you’re fine with that, but I’m not.
(I guess maybe it’s different. You’re with your girlfriend because, and I say this only in quote, ‘she gives great head’. I’m with my boyfriend because I actually have feelings for him. Perhaps it’s different when you’re only using someone for sex.)
I feel so guilty.
I flirted with you all week. I let you get more touchy than I probably should have. For Christ sake, I almost lost my virginity on an airplane. And if you would’ve said one more thing to me, I would have.
And maybe you can look your girlfriend straight in the eyes, but I am absolutely terrified of what I’m going to do next time I make out with my boyfriend and I can’t stop picturing you.
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m happy last week happened. I needed that. I needed excitement and danger, and that’s what I’ve got. The danger part is still lingering.
Please don’t tell me it’s over.
‘Cause I can’t be with you and keep a clean conscience, but I can’t let it be over, either. The chemistry between us could destroy this place. 

Dear The Straight Girl ,

I admire from a far because you don’t know my name. I’ve tried to talk to you but you seem just as shy as I am with new people. You have a lot of friends but somehow when I see you you’re almost always alone, staring at the floor or scrolling through old messages on your phone to look busy but I know you’re not. All I want to do is make you feel as beautiful as I know you are, put a smile on your face because you’re thinking of me when I’m not there… but again you don’t even know my name. Maybe it’s because you’re a girl, and so am I. You won’t see this and even if you do, you won’t know that it’s about you or that it’s from me. I just want to say, that i could be the most caring, warm, devoted person you could ever meet only if you just knew my name.

Dear Katie.

I’m not scared of the flesh you’ll tear.
It isn’t flesh that I’m worried about.