A Letter to Heaven.

If you could send a letter to heaven, what would you write?

Where would you start and where would it end?
Would you start where their life stopped, and lead up to present day?
Would you tell them of all the terrible, and difficult things that have happened?
Or would you keep it light, only focusing on the great things that they had to miss out on?
Would you tell them how hurt you were when they passed, and how it drastically altered your life?
Or would you just tell them that you miss them, wishing they were still here, even if it were just for a day?

I’d probably start off by…I guess I don’t even know. The first thing that comes to my mind is to give a great big bear hug that would last for probably 20 minutes. I know you can’t put that in a letter, but I could try. I guess, hug the paper, yeah I could do that. I’d hug the paper, then write that they need to hug it back when they get it. It would probably be soaked with tears, as there is no getting around that. But tears are simply an overflow of unexpressed emotions: love, joy, gratitude.

Next thing I’d say would probably be that I miss you. SO much has happened over the past 17 years. Wow…17 years. I’ve gone longer without you than with you. Don’t like that; don’t like it one bit. Not only did everything go to crap after you passed, but it hasn’t gotten much better, or I guess improved, I should say. Sure, we all learned to cope as best as we could, but we don’t get together anymore like we used to. Family members became strangers and no one seems to care or try to make amends. I wonder how you would feel about that, or what you would do and say if you were here. I’m not sure why it’s still like that, after all these years, why it’s difficult to pick up the phone to have a conversation. You would think it would have brought everyone closer.

I told my husband one day that I don’t know where I would be if we didn’t have my siblings in my life, but I do know that our life would be a lot harder without them. We don’t always talk or hangout, but when one of us needs something, we show up. We don’t judge each other on our decisions or life choices, but offer support no matter what. That’s really all we can do. Of course we joke around and poke fun, but that’s what siblings are for, right?

On a more lighter note, us grandkids have kids now, including myself. So that means you would have had 5 great grandkids! Mine will be 7 in May, and is very much like me when I was her age, full of curiosity, rambunctious energy, creativity, mixed with a touch of chaos and craftiness, steadfast in getting her way. She started playing soccer this spring, her first “official” sport. It’s actually pretty comical to watch. At first she didn’t really have a competitive drive, so she would just watch the ball fly past her. I’d yell from the sideline, “GO! GET AFTER IT! RUN!” She quick looks at me and takes off after the ball.

The last game she had, she got to play the goalie. She gets distracted pretty easily, so the other team scored a goal within the first few minutes. After that, she paid a little more attention, occasionally stopping to dance to a song playing in her head. She would realize the ball is getting near then drop low in that “it’s coming to me” kind of stance. It’s a great time. She was having a rough year this year, and was getting write ups nearly every day. She marches to the beat of her own drum, but not all public schools know how to use that to their advantage. After several months of having a hard time, she’s finally seemed to figure out how to make it work.

Me? I’m doing alright. I went through my angsty teen phase and ended up moving in with Pops at 16. It seemed like a good idea at the time, since I wasn’t sure what to do anymore. He bought me my first vehicle, a 1977 two tone Chevy Cheyenne pickup, and we fixed her up a few times. I still have it to this day, nearly 12 years later. Still purrs like a kitten. It caught on fire once. It was winter, and I was on my way to school. Luckily, I hadn’t gotten very far down the road when it backfired then stalled. I tried turning it over but it wasn’t working. I got out and popped open the hood to do a trick that Pops taught me. I opened it up and low and behold the air filter was on fire! Panic set in and in an attempt to douse the flames, I started throwing snow on it. That was not helping. I remembered there was a fire extinguisher in my truck so I grabbed it and expelled it at the fire. That did the trick. I called Pops and told him what happened and he came down the road and towed me back. It got me out of school that day, too!

I met my husband when I moved in with Pops. I had gotten a job as a cashier at the gas station where my husband was already working. We started dating about a year later, in August of 2013, and have been through it all over the past 11 years. We have our own home, with adult responsibilities and everything. It’s crazy. We used to write notes to each other while we were working, just random things like, hi. Or, you’re cute. At least that’s what I would write. He would be romantic and write love letters, which I come across every once in awhile when I’m going through old totes. I should organize them into a book somehow. I could call it, The Evolution of our Love. Is that cringey or sweet? I haven’t quite decided yet. He’ll probably read this letter and give me crap but that’s alright.

His love language is more verbal affirmations and physical intimacy (like holding hands, hugs, cuddling, etc.). Mine is acts of service; if I love you and care about you I will do physical tasks to show that. I’m getting better at allowing myself to be vulnerable though, feeling my emotions instead of hiding them, talking about what bothers me instead of brushing it aside. It took awhile, but I’m getting better every day. Some days are harder than others, but that’s usually because it’s from a new experience I haven’t been able to process yet.

Pops gave me some of your old books, and I’ve gotta say, you have quite the collection. I came across your old high school report card. I was surprised to see your grades weren’t as I was expecting. I’m not sure why I was expecting them to be higher, but I just was. Ironically enough, I came across my mom’s high school report card a few months before yours, and it was very similar. Hers included notes from the teachers about how she didn’t want to follow directions and was sort of a trouble maker. Hmm…apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, does it? I never knew that about my mom. Makes sense, though, now that I think about it.

Over the past few years, I’ve been thinking more about our family tree, on your side, and my dads. It seems like there’s an infinite number of puzzle pieces, and I’m trying to find them after all these years to try and piece them together. I feel like if I can have a better idea of where we come from, maybe it’ll help guide me towards the direction I’m meant go. I feel I’m on the right path, but there’s something missing. Of course, no one can replace you; you were the glue that held it all together. Since you passed, it exploded into a million pieces in every direction. I feel like there is something from the past that calls to me; it wants me to find it. Just as those astrology books called to you, our ancestry calls to me. It’s hard; no one seems to know anything, or it’s repressed because it’s too difficult for them to talk about. I wish they would understand that when they talk about it, those feelings are released, no longer bogging them down with their relentless weight.

I could go on and on, but I think this is a good enough start. I’m at work, and I’m trying not to cry. Next letter I’ll write at home so I can have a little bit of privacy. I love you, I miss you, I think about you a lot, and thank you for your message in my dream a few years back. I got it and it made a profound impact. I see cardinals around my house, and they sit and look at me for few seconds before flying away. I think of you every time. Until we meet again.