Dearest Da,

Source

9 years. As of the 14th, it's been nine years since you've gone off to that yet-to-be-definitively-named-or-even-proven-to-exist-place over yonder. Is it the beyond, da? Is there somewhere beyond where I am living and breathing? Are love and memories truly bridges that link the gulf that separates us? Or is there nothing?

Momma is doing well, da. She's back in school, slowly but surely taking steps toward the EdM she gave up on getting the moment she realized that life grew inside of her. My life. Did you ever feel guilty, da. as I sometimes do? Momma gave up her dreams and a career of her own to become your devoted wife and my loving momma. Oh, she has told me time and time again that her dream of being a mom--my mom--is far stronger and much more important than her dream of being a teacher. She did teach me well; I wouldn't have been the successful young woman I am today without her by my side. But still...I feel sad whenever I think about all those lost years and missed opportunities. 

I think I understand you now, da. It's weird how it is in retrospect that I see who you are with clarity. When you didn't shower me with hugs and kisses as a child (like mom did, and still does) or show me much affection, it wasn't because you didn't love me; it was because you never really knew how. But you tried, da. I see that not. You may not have always said "I love you," but you expressed it in your own way. It was in the way you preferred to tell me non-Disney bedtime versions of fairy tales over the phone; you wanted me to know different sides to every story, and to search for my own truth. Your love was in the way you insisted that I take martial arts classes instead of the voice lessons momma wanted. It wasn't because you wanted me to be the son you always wanted but momma never gave birth to; it was because you wanted me to be able to protect myself in times when you could not.

Once in a while I go over your old letters and your old Filofax. The pages are dog-eared, tear-stained, and some are yellowed with age. Ink's faded on some passages, and it's difficult to figure out if you went to visit Dr.  Shen for an EKG or if you kicked the shin of some dude named EG. But no matter. I've memorized your words and held them close.

You've been gone for about a third of my life and you've missed well over half of my life because, well, the Constitution and safety of our country had to come first. But in some ways, those lost years don't matter anymore. I love you, da, and because love is alive, you've grown and changed with me through the years even if you'll always be on the edge of 64 and 2002.

I'll be seeing you again, da. And when I come rushing into your arms, I will once again be that pudgy, pig-tailed little girl with the lacy dress and binoculars, demanding, "Spin me again, daddy! Spin me again!" Someday, I'll dance with you again. 

Post Secret Sunday: Dear Sender

Source

Dear Luv,

     You don't know me and I don't know you. We're just two out of over 6 billion strangers in this world. And yet somehow we're all connected. 

     I hope and pray that each time your thoughts come to this, you will eventually take a step back. I hope that you stop and wonder what tomorrow would be like instead of think, "this is it."  

     It may seem like it sometimes, but you are not alone. This postcard of yours is you reaching out. This blog post is me holding your hand. We are 6 billion strong.

Unsent Chronicles: Letter to My Best Friend

"See, I had to spread my wings

had to leave

to find out what I'm made of

add to the tapestry

of my life"

J.C.

Copyright 2010

Dearest J,

In my life's mosaic, you are definitely one of the pieces that stand out. We've all said it time and time again, but we can never really say it enough: we are each very lucky to be a part of each other's lives.

It's amazing. Looking back on the marathon conversations and (literally) thousands of e-mails in the five years we've known each other, it's so amazing how much we've all changed and grown. In some ways, when we first met, we were tentatively peeking out of our cocoons. We took steps forward hesitantly, and at times we were apologetic for believing that we were worthy enough to venture out into this world being ourselves and the selves we have yet to discover. We've made decisions that felt like we were taking 2 steps backwards for every step forward. But like in the dance of life--splendid paso doble--these steps became necessary to tell the story of the music, of our adventures, of our journeys, of who we are. 


So J, thank you for your unbelievably supportive and unconditional friendship, whose rhythm created such a brilliant part of my life's soundtrack.


No matter the distance or lapse in time, our friendship is for keeps. Nothing is forever, but you are for a lifetime and ten thousand more times beyond that.