Losing a Loved One - 5/17

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RE: Losing a Loved One - 5/17

Postby darnellreid3 » Tue May 24, 2011 4:03 am

Dear brother,

I love you very much. I miss the time that we used to have together. Especially when you use to give me money to buy me things that I need. I only hope that you is in a place that you enjoy. I even saw one of your picture that made me happy. It was a old picture of you with a hat on and you smiling at us. You'll be gladly miss, and I love you very much. :emoticon:

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Re: Losing a Loved One - 5/17

Postby L-Zanne » Tue May 24, 2011 4:15 pm

We would curve our bodies together, my chin on your wispy blond hair. I was the tough shell and you, the precious pearl. Then you wriggled away and jumped in the pillows, and I pounced, wrapped you in my arms and nuzzled your tummy. You giggled, so I blew raspberries to make you giggle some more. I leaned up on my arms and gazed down at you. Yours was the most perfect face to wake up to. My little boy.

You could be terrible, too. You threw crayons and poured out milk, looking at me with innocent blue eyes. Those eyes would have gotten you into trouble some day. Huge eyes, like summer skies, with pouty little boy lips. Girls and women gasped when they saw you. You ducked your head against me, coy, and peeked at them under long blond lashes. Oh, those eyes, those lips, they would say. Some day those would have been lush, pouty lips on a man with blond hair and summer blue eyes. Trouble for sure, although that day never came.

I’ll miss reading the same stories over and over, Doctor Seuss, Ocean Babies, Goodnight Moon, the name book. You picked up a book and waved it at me, your other hand on my leg, pushing me to the rocking chair. I sat down and you crawled into my lap, and I read the book with your back against my stomach. I smoothed your hair and kissed your head while I turned the page. You listened and wriggled, and when we got halfway through you wriggled off my lap and ran out of the room.

So we went to the park, and you ran across the soccer field laughing and giggling, until you got too tired and I picked you up. I carried you against me, your head on my shoulder and my nose against your neck, breathing your baby smell. When we got to the slide, you wriggled out of my arms and climbed the stairs, then slid down faster than anyone else at the park, even the kids two years older than you. You smiled as you went down the slide, and as you climbed the stairs, and as you ran away toward the big kids’ playground with me running after you, yelling for you to stop.

You were always smiling. You were at swimming lessons and the instructor in the wetsuit poured water on your head, and you kept smiling as you wiped water out of your eyes. You did stop smiling when you hit your head and the doctor sewed the little cut together with two stitches while you lay restrained on your back. Then, tears dripped into your hair, and your face was red and your mouth was sad. You called for me over and over even though I was right there, getting in the doctor’s way, trying to press calm into you through my hands on your shoulders and my cheek against your chest, listening to your pounding heart.

I’ll miss your smiling face, and your pouting face, and your giggles, and your tantrums. I’ll miss seeing you grow up and stun the ladies, and lecturing you on respecting women, and making you do your homework, and bringing you to soccer practice, and crying when I send you off to college. I miss your sweet face and your blue eyes. I miss hugging you and tickling you. I miss you.

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RE: Losing a Loved One - 5/17

Postby rainey » Wed May 25, 2011 12:33 am

Dear Dad,
My aunt made a remark at your funeral. She didn’t mean to be insensitive. How could she ever hope to understand? She said it was good that you died while I was still to young to know you. You can’t miss someone you never knew. But I’ll miss you, dad. Oh how I will miss you!

I’ll miss the joy of welcoming a daddy home at the end of the day – the hugs and kisses, the ‘how’s my little girl?’ and ‘what did you do today?’ I’ll miss curling up on your lap when I’m sleepy and riding on your back in your arms when we are out and my legs tire. I’ll miss the little gifts and treats fathers bring home for their daughters, and the gifts that only fathers understand little girls treasure; your proud smiles and praise when I excel , your encouragement when I struggle, and your soft reassurances when I fail.

I’ll miss your admiration of my beauty the first time my hair is cut or I paint my face or dress for my first ball. I’ll miss dancing with you on my debut night and walking up the aisle on your arm when I marry. Who will give me away? Who will dance the ‘father/daughter’ waltz with me? Who will my children call ‘grandpa’? It may be twenty years or more from now, but they will surely miss you too.

In the schoolyard and in groups, I’ll be the odd one out – the daughter of a poor widow. Kids can be cruel with their torment of anyone who differs.

And then there’s the practical issues. Oh, sure, there was an insurance payout, and Mum will get a pension, I guess. But she will struggle financially, and she’ll carry the entire tiring load of running a household. I guess my uncles will help out at times, but they can’t be there every evening to chop the wood and help with the dishes, or to give me my bath or read me a story while she cooks dinner or cleans the kitchen. And who will keep her company when she’s lonely after I have gone to sleep? Who will she turn to for the warmth of a lover? If your absence makes her bitter and resentful, will I lose her love as well, or will she smother and suppress me in her search for comfort?

I’ll miss that ‘good cop, bad cop’ balance that two parents achieve when a child needs both discipline and understanding, and I’ll miss your comfort and reassurance when exhaustion , stress, or inexperience make Mum sharp or unfair.

I’ll miss the knowledge of my history and heritage. How will I answer my doctor’s concerned “Any family history of…?” I’ll never know.

I’ll look at your photographs and I guess I’ll see resemblances. I’ll know that my clear milky skin came from my English father, because our Sicilian neighbour will comment often. I’ll know that my singing talent was inherited from you, because everyone knows Mum can’t hold a note, and Gran will tell me you had the softest speaking voice, but when you sang in that magnificent tenor tone, you lifted the roof off and brought all the neighbourhood flocking to listen. If I find myself being pedantic about neatness, I guess I’ll wonder was that a trait passed on through genes, because Gran will tell me you ironed your pyjama bottoms with creases that would cut cold butter. And sadly, Daddy, that’s all I’ll know of you. Just those two things Gran will tell me, and what I see in photographs.

I’m only six weeks old. I cannot hope to remember what you looked like, how your voice sounded, or how it felt when you held me in your arms. I can never hope to know how your face dimpled or how your eyes lit when you smiled, or how your face hardened when you were angry or disapproving. I don’t what foods you most liked to eat, what books you liked to read, what kind of music you liked to hum or dance to, how you preferred to spend your leisure time…

“You never knew him,” my aunt will say when I am older. “How then can you claim to miss him?”
I’ll miss having a dad in my life. But most of all, I’ll miss knowing half of me, and how that part of me came to be.

Love, Me


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Re: Losing a Loved One - 5/17

Postby tourmeline » Wed May 25, 2011 9:20 am

Dear Gary,

The dream I dreamed last night was so real. You walked into my room without knocking, as you always did in the old days, sat on the edge of my bed and spoke to me.

“Hey, Green-eyed Lady, wake up. I needed to see you before I go.”

I mumbled something incoherent and struggled to sit up. “Where're you going?” I asked, wondering how you could be here at all. There's an entire continent between us, after all.

“Hey, remember when my old lady walked out with my friend and I just wanted to die? You pulled me down on that lumpy old couch and wrapped your arms around me till I fell asleep. When I woke up the sun was shining and you were still holding me. I don't know if I'd have made it without you.”

I said something about you being my spare brother and I love you. You smiled that lopsided, slightly wicked smile.

“Remember the time we caught enough cockroaches in the diner, to fill a sandwich and put it on a plate in the manager's office. Getting fired was worth the look on his face when he spit it out. And all the music in the old house in Allston. I loved that. And did I ever thank you for keeping my bus in your yard for a year, when you lived in the mountains?” You looked towards the window. “I don't have any more time, right now, but I really wanted to stop by.”

You pushed me gently back down on the bed, leaned over and kissed my right eyebrow. Then you picked up a strand of my hair and ran it through your fingers. “You have beautiful hair. Go back to sleep, now. Be good, Green-eyed Lady.”

I woke, this morning, with a smile on my face. I wanted to call you and tell you about my dream, but the phone rang while I was still stretching in bed. Small world – it was another friend from the old days. “Well, hi.” I said, “I was just going to call Gary.”

A small gasp from the phone and then, “You can't. That's what I'm calling about. Gary died last night. His heart just failed.”

My own heart melted in my chest and tried to leak out through my eyes. Your rich laugh, the dimpled smile, thick, curly black hair, but most of all the incredible sparkle of your loving blue eyes – lost. The world was suddenly a harsher, colder place. I remembered you sitting by my bed in last night's dream and, remembering, saw things I hadn't noticed. Your hair was full of silver and lines I've never seen traced your face. You were the Gary of now, not of the last time we were together and I wished I had told you the most important things.

Thank you for stopping to say 'Good-by'. Thank you for the gift of your loving friendship for all these years and for accepting mine. Thank you for being your own complicated, wonderful self. I love you. That's why I wrote you this letter, but in James Taylor's words “I just can't remember who to send it to.”

Yours, always yours.

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RE: Losing a Loved One - 5/17

Postby HMVP » Sat May 28, 2011 6:04 am

I know that you have journeyed all through this time. And now that you're away from us, I want to say these things to you.

I will miss all your special actions to me. Even though we're not related, you still give me your attention and making me spoiled to you because you wanted me to be happy. And now that you're gone in this world that I'm standing in, I hope that you will watch over me and my family, of course, your relatives and your loved ones. I will not forget you and try to visit you sometimes.

I love you always. May God Bless you there and see you next time.

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RE: Losing a Loved One - 5/17

Postby MVJ423 » Sun May 29, 2011 3:23 am

I was so happy to receive your letter in the mail that day a few years ago. I wrote to you asking about a trip you took. In reality it was to re-connect with the aunt I missed having in my life. I listened to the wrong people repeating your words interpreted through their minds for too long.
You were always the beautiful aunt. The one with the best jokes making everyone laugh. I especially loved the joke about you going through the car wash with the windows open. You were sitting in the middle of the front seat, clothes sopping, suds dripping from your hair coming out of the tunnel to very surprised attendants!
You were the one who took me to church and taught me how to pray. On Sunday nights you would pick me up and take me to St. Joseph’s. We moved so many times when I was a child going to church wasn’t a weekly commitment. In our family it wasn’t a yearly commitment! You tried to instill faith in me which I carry with me to this day.
After I met Richard and knew I wanted to get married, you made it possible for me to make my First Communion and Confirmation. I was 17 at the time. All the others making First Communion were 7. Age doesn’t matter to Jesus you said. You sponsored me for my Confirmation and stood behind me hand on my shoulder.
You were the one who had to deal with me and the chaos of what happened to me as a child. Being molested by my step-dad and finally telling caused major turmoil in my family. I wish I knew then how to communicate but sometimes it was as if I had no voice. You were the one who took me to the doctor. Tried to explain what was going on. Not an easy situation but you did it and I appreciate that you were there.
You took me to the hospital when I needed stitches for my face after being hit with a hockey stick. The one who hates hospitals and faints at the sight of her own blood!
I still have the doll you brought back with you from your trip Puerto Rico in 1977. I remember you coming to our house and telling stories about your trip. How beautiful you looked in your bright colored top all tanned and relaxed from a Caribbean vacation.
You were my maid of honor when I got married. I wanted someone permanent next to me. Someone I loved and trusted. Someone who loved me not matter what. You were that person then and you still are.
I love talking to you on the phone. The funny emails you send. The prayers and love you have sent my way these past few years.
I will miss your laughter, your encouragement, your faith and your love. You have touched me in so many positive ways.
I read a quote recently that said “address things now that could turn into regrets.” I am extremely happy that I pushed away my foolishness and was able to reach out and reconnect with you. I am writing a letter full of happiness and wonderful memories instead of regrets.
I will miss you my beautiful, funny, caring aunt. You live forever in my heart.

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Re: Losing a Loved One - 5/17

Postby H.I.Almuhairi » Sun May 29, 2011 5:12 am

Dear Buck,

They say it’s really hard to really forget someone who you once loved, but they didn’t know what the hell they were talking about. Mom suggested I write you a letter, she says it's all part of the healing process. She lets me go off the hook now when I scream and yell at her, because sometimes, Buck, it gets so pretty darn bad I turn against everybody like a woman having her time of the month.

None of this was meant to happen. I keep going over the break up and the shooting; over and over and over again. I know it’s useless, I know it won’t bring you back or change anything but it’s so much easier to hate myself instead of hating you.

You’ve always been an idiot who was too good to everybody. You weren’t the only one with insecurities; I thought I never deserved you. There was always a limit to the subjects of our discussions. Sometimes I laugh when I remember how your eyes always turned blank when I started discussing school, and then I’d start crying because I missed that pure, child-like innocence about you.

I miss you.

You know I never had someone who really appreciated me, who looked at me like I was the only thing he ever needed. You and me, and that was all.
Oh, Buck, I hope you like your letters extra salty because I can’t stop crying. I keep remembering your face—oh, God—before he pulled the trigger. Why did I have to be the one who you looked at the last? Why did I have to see that acceptance mixed with shreds of fear in your eyes? When the bullet came out, your eyes weren’t the same. Their focus was gone and I thought, “I lost you for good.” I still don’t know to this day whether you heard me but I screamed until my lungs gave out, and my heart couldn’t hurt anymore.

I’m sorry, because I never got up the courage and told you about how I felt; how I truly appreciated it when you wrapped your arms around me even though I said I was okay and I wasn’t, how I loved that time we canoed in the lake and you managed to fall in the water with your clumsiness. All I can do now is remember you and it hurts, because I want you to be right here.

I was an unwarranted bitch, and you didn’t deserve my selfishness. I’m still wondering whether I put that sense of loss in your eyes before you were gone, and I don’t think it will ever leave me.

Your Mom has puffy eyes every time I see her but your Dad is trying to be strong, even though I know he’s crumbling from the inside. Tristan and Max and Angela are dealing with this hurt in their own ways but nothing ever helps and we all know it. Not the booze and not the parties and not the new friends.

I hope wherever you are, you’re somewhere that makes you happy; much happier than when you were here.

I love you, Bux,


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RE: Losing a Loved One - 5/17

Postby sarrot » Sun May 29, 2011 5:25 am


As I sit here in my mansion above the sea, I heard with great joy of your passing. It was something I had expected, but never thought would happen so quickly. I know it is horrible to think such things, but I wish I were the one to have given you the lead poisioning.
Ever since you tried to swindle me out of my fortune I have despised you. Ever since you took possession of my dear wife by sedution I have hated you more. Worse, in all of this, you were supposed to be my best friend. Anyway, this joyful happening couldn't have come to a better man.
Although, I must say that there are some things I will miss about you.
I will miss how you would strut into anywhere you go and instantly insult whoever greeted you. I will miss how you would lie to clients, taking their money and laundering it into other fields. I will miss your drunken tirades and physically abusive manner to your supposed friends and collegues. But the thing I will miss most is trying to forget the memory you implanted in me; remember the look on your face the night you ruined my life. When I saw you walking out of the front door of this mansion deep in the arms of my wife, looking straight into my eyes when you passionately kissed her...

I hope you rot in hell you miserable, fatherless child.


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RE: Losing a Loved One - 5/17

Postby thornprick » Sun May 29, 2011 3:08 pm

Today it hit me. I'd been putting it out of my head for days now. I didn't want to believe it, I couldn't believe it. I saw your face on a page of newspaper. Black and white. Just like the world became once you left. Mush it together and you'd have the gray my mind had become, until now.

I'd been numb for awhile, not wanting to think, or to feel. But today I saw the emptiness. I saw every empty hole, wanting of your presence. I felt every empty, black hole, wanting of your light. Today I realized your friend wasn't lying when she told me you'd been hit. I realized the doctor wasn't lying when he told me your precious heart had ceased to beat. I realized everything my family and friends tried to tell me about you being gone for good was no lie. I sit here now, my mind is no longer gray. Sharp colors of red pierce through me, like the red of your blood, of your death.

Darling, I see your face, blazing in my mind so clearly. How could you be gone? I remember the warmth of your voice on cold, rainy days. I miss the starlight in your eyes on those dark, black nights. I miss the way you held me at night. I miss your hair against my chest and the whisper of your lips in my ear. I need the touch of your heart against mine. How am I to sleep now, without your body next to mine? How am I to awaken without the song of your voice to lift my eyes? How do you expect me to live and breathe throughout the day while lacking the air with which you supply my lungs?

I realize now, that day you're heart ceased to beat. I realize half my soul died along with yours that day. Half of my soul I will never get back.

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RE: Losing a Loved One - 5/17

Postby Lupe_Lulu » Tue May 31, 2011 4:29 pm

Dear . . . ,
Sadly I don’t know what to call you. In my heart you were someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. In the eyes of the world we were only friends. So what should I call you, my hope and my death, or my future but now my past? I LOVED YOU!!! Why did you have to go and kill yourself! You leaned on me and I carried your burden and mine. I wanted to tell you but I knew you had too much to deal with. When you started smiling a flame of hope burned in me but when I saw your eyes. Gosh those damn eyes! Those that I loved so dearly and yet told me the truth. You were in a place I could not go and help you no matter how much I longed to join you.
How am I? Okay you can say, I spend most of my time crying, visiting your grave and rereading the letter you left me. Do you recall it? The one you said that you loved me and that you were sorry. If you came back to life I don’t know if I would kiss you or kill you myself! Did you know? Did you know I loved you, if you did would it have stopped you? You left me a note that is killing me slowly, you died leaving me lonely and you left me with the words unspoken.
You left me with many things, but only one I hate you for it. You knew, . . those damn eyes told me you knew. When I wanted to tell you, you just told me about your problems but not before you gave me faint smile. I hate and I love you!! I hate you for telling me without having to write it that you want me to live my life without you. I love you because. . . it does not matter anymore does it?
I loved me and you knew. I am sitting by your grave right now. Aloud I say, “I love you,” three little words. Three little words you did not allow me to speak that would bond me to you. The wind blows around me and it is the only comfort I am given. I wish you had seen, we could have had a future but that is left to the unknown. Who would have know these words would hurt so much, goodbye.

Yours truly,
. . .


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