Letter to a Lost Loved One

Write a letter to someone in your life that has passed away. You can tell that person the things you wish you’d said, tell that person some of the highlights of your life, whatever you want. If that’s too difficult, have one of your characters from your novel (or short story) write a letter to a character he or she lost.

Post your response (500 words or fewer) in the comments below.

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494 thoughts on “Letter to a Lost Loved One

  1. mikayla1189

    Hey Danny,

    I don’t know how to start this. First off I want you to know that I wanted to tell you Hi that day. I should have given you a hug or acknowledged you in some form. To this day that will be my biggest regret. However, putting all that sad shit to the side. I want to know how you are doing. Have you moved? Is it better on the other side? Do you still get to skate and do all the things you love to do on the other side? Please tell me you are not allowed to mess with us or watch us all the time cause that is pretty creepy when you think about it. I have to go but I plan to write to you more often. till next time little cousin. Love you and I will forever miss you and count the days till I see you again. Think of it this way we will have the biggest reunion party up there once I join you in the future. Bye.


  2. Vishalam

    My dearest Grandma….

    Since the time I cud walk,talk and remember…you were with me…You fed me…You looked after me…You played with me…You held me whenever I wept…You told me bed time stories so that I wud go to sleep…You stitched little dresses for me…You cooked me delicious meals…You always defended me…You cried when I cried…You helped me always…You were with me longer than my father…You were with me my whole life…But now…without even saying a word,you left us…you left me…by punching a hole through my chest…and you left,by leaving me alone…You spent your whole life for your children…We never thanked you for your such patience,love and sacrifice…Yet you never complained…Sometimes wen I was angry I said a whole lot of things to you…But i swear i never meant any of those things i said…I was never a good child to you…Maybe its becoz i dont know how to express my love…But please..do look into my mind…I’ve always loved you…I’ve never stopped loving you…I still love you…and will love you always…Please forgive me…for all the mistakes i’ve done towards you…I am stupid and worthless…I never deserved your kindness and love….and you never deserved an end like this….I know that god called you to his regime for a reason…he saw your suffering… And saw that you don’t deserve to suffer…he called you back…because he has something better to give you…Now you are with him…In his kingdom…Kingdom of love and happiness only…HEAVEN….You deserve it…There will be lots of children just like us there,for you to love and pamper…you can guide them and make them happy…They will be happy to have you…You will be safe there until god finds you a better place back on earth again…He will give you a life with joy and happiness…He’ll never let you suffer again…He knows you deserve much much better…Ammammaaa…….don’t you worry…you are our life…then how will you be out of our lives…??? You will be always with us…i will always hear you calling my name….i will hear you scolding me when i do something wrong….i will hear you telling me that YOU LOVE ME…and that YOU LOVE US…Thankyou for making our lives as much as happy as you can…Thank you for being always there…We know that you can’t bear leaving us…but still…you have go…You go now…You go…we will be okay…you are in a better place now…and you deserve that better place…you are in a better place…you are in a better place….REST IN PEACE my GUARDIAN ANGEL….

  3. Arison

    Dear, Mimi
    When I was 6 years old I remember going to buy shoes with you. I was your only granddaughter and we loved spending time with each other. And while we were buying shoes with my mom I had to go to the bathroom. There was a Build-a-Bear next to the shoe shop. With no bathroom in the shoe shop we went next door. As I walked in I know you saw my eyes lit up, maybe that’s why you bought me my first bear. And the year after that and the year after that. Every year we went to Build-a-Bear, you me and my mom, I got too many bears to count. As I got older I didn’t want to go anymore, this must have made you sad. I was busy with school and karate so you didn’t see me much. God do I wish I had never grown out of Build-a-Bear. Maybe if I hadn’t I would get to spend more time with you, more time that both of us would remember. You had always been forgetful, but you were old so that was okay. Over time however it got worse, you misplaced stuff and thought someone was stealing it. I was only 9 so when I asked my dad if you had Alzheimer and he said no, I believed him. When I was 10 and you had been to the doctors, it was finally confirmed, you were sick, very sick. My dad told me a few weeks later, quick and quietly. After he had gone to the other room I stood there, wondering what exactly this meant from now on. But then I saw and went to your house for the first time in months. You would rush around looking for things that you had misplaced, not remembering where you put them. You would ask questions over and over again that I had answered only moments ago. Like how old I was or what grade I was in. By the time I was 13 we had to move you and Papa into a special living facility because you were wrecking the house. I was told to distract you while the other family members moved all the furniture; that was possible the hardest day of my life. You fussing over stupid things, misplacing them and thinking it got stolen, repeating the same question over and over again. Every time I looked at you Mimi your eyes were empty. I know you’re not dead Mimi, you’re still alive and living happily with Papa in the assisted living home. Mimi you’re not dead, the Mimi who bought me Build-a-Bears is the one who died.
    With Love,
    Your only granddaughter

  4. Louxey

    Kiyoshi hesitantly placed the piece of parcel paper on her desk, her light blue pen tapping on said object repeatedly in a nervous motion. What was she so afraid of? Her hands becoming moist, she leaned forward, gently placed her other hand on the paper to keep it from moving and began to write.

    ‘Hello, Mother.’ The youth paused, pursing her lips as a lump formed in her throat and it became hard to swallow with each breath. ‘I miss you, a lot.. Father said you went away on a vacation when I was five, but now I understand that you’re never coming back.’ Violet purple eyes slowly began to water, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. ‘I don’t understand why he didn’t tell me you passed away..’ Leaning back in her chair, she quietly muttered to herself.

    “Why is it that I’m so overwhelmed about writing to a woman I didn’t know fully? Not to mention she’s..” A trailed off sentence, the girl heaved an exhale as she closed her violet eyes for a few brief seconds to recollect herself. Leaning forward once more, she began writing in her neat hand-writing hesitantly.

    ‘I have found many friends, they all take care of me.. Father spoils me a ton.. I love him a lot, same with my friends! They’re always there for me, no matter what!’ A small smile formed on her face as she wrote those words, a small pink tint coming to her cheeks as well. It all vanished as soon as she thought of her next words.

    ‘I love you, Mother, do you love me as well? If so, why did you leave so early?’ Small delicate hands paused, she couldn’t do this. Her heart was beating rapidly and she felt as if she was caught in the middle of a crime. ‘Is it because you were addicted to drinking, mother?’ Her tongue felt like sandpaper in her mouth as she continued. ‘Or was it because you didn’t wish to be with father and I?’

    With that, Kiyoshi let a few tears stream down her face before folding the paper up, closing it in a haste and pulling out an envelope from a drawer. The pinkette would rapidly shove the letter into the envelope before throwing it into a different drawer, one filled with letters all addressed to “Mom”.

    [ This is my first post on here, hello ;;v;; ! I’m a 15 y/o girl and I wish to be a writer one of these days. I just wish to improve while being here! ]

  5. lifeislikeakooshbya

    (Tribute to Robin Williams)

    You May Not Have Known Me, but I have known you most of my life. You may not have known what I do with my life, but you’re a part of it everyday. You may not have known when I was sad, but you’ve turned my frown upside down more than once in my lifetime. You’re a part of my life and I feel like I’ve been a part of yours. I’ve always seen you as a friend. I care about you. I always thought, maybe, one day we’d meet and I could tell you jokes and you could laugh. You could laugh at how they’re all your jokes because a lot of the best comedy in my life came from your mouth. You could laugh at them the way I did and forget all your troubles, even if only for a moment.

    It’s summer time now. They found you cold and lifeless today. The pain was too much for you to bear, so you left. I can’t really blame you after hearing what you’ve been going through. Some think you were weak, but I don’t think you were. It was an uphill battle and you had just been strong for too long. You took the weight on without asking for help. I don’t think what you did was right, but that won’t stop me from missing you. I wish you would have stayed. If you had stayed, there are so many wonderful things that could have happened in your life, but now you’ll never experience them. You’re gone now. You made the big permanent decision that so many people make everyday. If only you all knew.

    Na Nu Na Nu, friend.

  6. country_girl_01

    Dear Grandpa,

    Words can’t describe how much your missed here. If heaven wasn’t so far away I would be up there in an instant. No matter what you will always be in our hearts. I knew I would think about you , but not being able to physically hold you or give you a kiss was driving me crazy. It’s so hard to be at your house when you’re not there. I try so hard to keep myself together but just can’t. Every time I go visit grandma, I see your chair sitting there not being used I break down. Grandma sits there holding me till I’m done crying then goes to make supper.

  7. AtreyaB

    As I turned away from his gravesite soon after they lowered him into the ground I asked myself what his final moments were like. I wish I could’ve had the chance to even exchange a simple greeting with him and feel a sense of normalcy for a change. I walked back to my car, and headed down the road, unsure of where I was going. The tears were streaming and I wished so longingly that I could tell him what I always wanted to, ever since I was young. The chance to say things was taken away too soon, but I decided to pull over to the side of the road, look up and start talking as if he would be somewhere able to hear me.
    “I feel like there is so much that I need to tell you, get things off my chest. I wanted to know, why, why did you feel that you could ignore my existence as if I wasn’t in fact your own flesh and blood. Growing up was so hard, because girls are somehow by society’s standards supposed to be ‘daddy’s girls’ and father-daughter events are ever so common. You stole that from me, I wasn’t able to forgive you for years, hell practically most of my life. You never even gave me a second thought after that courtroom appearance. You said it was impossible; you wanted nothing to do with me. You cut me deeper than anyone has ever been able to in my life. I grew up thinking that I wasn’t good enough for you, and that I was less of a person because of it.”
    The more the words came out of my mouth, the harder the tears began to come. Even though the man that I just saw being lowered into the ground was my own flesh and blood, the only time I saw his face was as he was lying in the casket. That magical word, ‘dad’, was always a swear word to me; a knife into my side reminding me that I wasn’t worthy enough to have one.
    “Did you ever wonder about me? Did you ever want to hug me? Did you ever wonder what it would’ve been like to read me stories at bedtime or to meet my first date? Where were you when I got hurt, why did you make me hate you so much, why do I only get the chance to ask these questions after the fact that you’re gone? I have a side to my family I will never know and it is your fault. I hope you’re happy, I hope that you’re watching from up there, seeing what you missed out on. I made something of my life, graduated school, got a job, have a man that loves me. Sorry. I’m so sorry.”
    At this point, I shed every tear I possibly could. I wiped my face, and drove back onto the road and headed home.
    “I hope you heard me.”

  8. Daisy217

    This probably won’t be long because I’m really not very good at this, but here goes… I can’t explain the hole in my heart. I feel so much overwhelming pain over you sometimes. Getting to be with you even for the short time we had, was a lifetime of love. You taught me more than you could ever know. For a long time I refused to talk about you, refused to say your name, and refused to look at a picture of you. I felt destroyed and disloyal when I realized that I had forgotten the sound of your voice. The sweet smile on your face that always lightened your pretty blue eyes. I let that slip away. I let you go. I tried to give up. I tried to let go. I didn’t want your lesson, and I didn’t want your pain. I didn’t want to support anyone else because I couldn’t even support myself. This feeling isn’t even pain anymore it’s just soar. A big, fat lump in my throat. Something is gone from my heart and only you can put it back. It feels like I’m choking. It feels like I’m drowning. All of us have changed but none of us will really forget. We have each other. It kills me to think you won’t see me graduate high school, get married, have kids, or grow old. You never even saw me hit double digits. it kills me even more that she will have to go through life without you. Seven years old and you left. I suppose I can’t be more hurt than them. Six and nine. To young to lose a mother. I think of you every time I cry. Every time I wish for something. I thought of you on my birthday, and on hers. I’m almost a teenager. I remember putting her to bed, and we would sing Winnie the Pooh. Your voice was like silk. I remember sleeping over, and I would always want to go home, but you would lay with me and make me feel better. I wish I had gotten to tell you good bye. I thought you would be there when I got home. You were supposed to ask us how it was, but you didn’t. You weren’t there. They were. Everyone was there. And when we walked in I could tell. Why were they there? Because you weren’t. They wouldn’t let me upstairs to see you, so I didn’t believe them. You really couldn’t be gone. You wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye. That night broke me. I lost all faith that night. If I ever believed there was a God somewhere that watched over us, and helped us, I didn’t anymore. I didn’t want to walk into that room of faces, trying not to cry. I was numb. I couldn’t feel anything. I would have rather had the pain, but that came later. When I woke up the next morning I just couldn’t go on. I couldn’t do it. You left. I was angry. I still can’t say your name. I still can’t listen to that stupid song. I wish I could have gone in your place. I wish I could have taken your pain. The worst pain was watching you suffer. The tear in your eye when you realized we understood that you had to go. And the tears in my eyes when I realized you were never coming back. I wish I could have said good bye. We will always remember you happy. Not the way it made you. That wasn’t you. I still can’t believe what you did for us. I still can’t believe what you went through to stay a little longer. I promise I will protect her. She knows you loved her. She knows you still love her. She will grow up okay. Now you can watch over us. You are my inspiration. I keep your picture on my mirror, so I can remind myself what pride is. And how important it is to be happy. And how much love means. That’s what you were, not a disease. You weren’t a mistake, you were an angel. The cancer wasn’t you. It grew around you but you stayed strong. You stayed beautiful. It couldn’t touch your heart. I know now how hard that was. How much pain you went through. I am grateful that you broke my heart. I’m honored, and I’m proud. We remember Davis Farmland. We remember North Carolina. I can’t explain the feeling I get when I think of you. It’s love and pride and joy. It’s pain and sadness and anger. It’s not fair what you went through. You didn’t deserve it. I feel relieved that it is over for you, but I feel destroyed that it happened. I wrote you a poem the other day. It isn’t good, but you deserved it, and I had to get rid of some of these feelings piling up inside. I guess this is what this is. I don’t want to show this to anyone, because I feel like that would be letting them in too much. But I couldn’t just keep it in. I need you. I need an angel sometimes. right now I don’t know if everything will be okay. I don’t know what to do when things get worse. This family can’t handle anymore pain, we have had enough. Let this be our white flag. We are done. I give up. I need the pain to just go away. If this is supposed to be my lesson I learned it. If this is supposed to be my punishment then I give. That’s it. I can’t do this anymore. You are my pain and I never want to feel it again.You are my infinity and I will never forget you.

  9. coolmom31

    Dear Grandpa,

    Words can’t express how much of a hole I have in my heart since you passed away.
    After I had the closure dream of you I had to continue my life. I knew I would think about you , but not being able to physically hold you or give you a kiss was driving me crazy.

    I have changed since you have known me, but I know you see it on a continuous basis. I know it is wrong to idolize someone, but you were my mentor and my rock and role model in life and I feel like I would have done things differently if you had not passed away. I had a hard time dealing with my grief and I became very rebellious for a while. It really hurt me though that you did pass away even though I had no choice in the matter.

    It really hurt me when I had my child and realized you wouldn’t be there to help get him to sleep or soothe him like you did all of us. I thought about how you beat all of us in Rummy or Chess or how you could look at a game that you never played and beat it in one day. It was your mission to find an answer to any situation that might be encountered. You were the man that would give the shirt off your back and empty your wallet for someone that needed a meal or shoes on their feet.

    I still miss your cooking because mine isn’t as good as yours or any of the other family who tries to imitate your dishes. We all come close, but yours is the most original. While I do wish you were physically here I know you are our guardian angel. I still miss the 8th of last year. I was happy that I had met my soulmate, lover and best friend, but I wanted my grandpa to be there physically to see my dad walk me down the aisle with that shed of a tear of joy in his eye. I wanted you to see me in my beautiful wedding gown.
    It’s really hard that James has to be without a grandpa. He already loves fried rice and rice and eggs when he comes. I still feel bad that I took spending the last few days with you for granted. I just figured I would take time and you would wait a little longer to go see God.

    The day you passed away I remember it clearly. I was at work at Hardees when my mom showed up without her car because we shared a car that day. She had gotten a ride. She pulled me away and told me that she had sad news. I already knew it and I began balling even then. I made her drive. I felt like I would have an accident or we both would . Both of us were hysterical. When I walked into the hospital that day you felt so cold and the life was completely sucked out of you. Your lips were blue. I felt if I touched you you would wake up from that horrible nightmare I had in my mind. However; it was better than seeing you the way you were in the two weeks previous. I saw it as a downhill climb and as a student at the university, it was hard to focus. My dad told me to spend more time with you because he didn’t think it would be much longer. I was envying Andy because he got to see you that morning before you died and I beat myself up because I thought I needed to, but I had to work and I also cared more about my toxic relationships at that point in life than spending time with my sick grandpa. Reality never suck in until the visitation when I saw you in the casket and you were dressed up the way that grandma wanted you to be dressed and you weren’t coming back. It was funny, because I remember grandma telling me about the conversations you two had about death. She was making it seem like no big deal, until it really happened.

    I felt peace when I played the flute at your funeral. Amber wanted to help too, but didn’t. I barely made it through the song, “Peace like a River” because I had remembered all the sessions we did of recording myself play and hearing the cd. You told me how wonderful that I sounded. I guess the 20 dollar music lessons every week for 21 years really paid off. I could have been a professional, but it wasn’t much money and I began losing interest in being a flutist.

    I hear your voice in my head. Every now and then I feel your hand is there or you are in the room even though it’s God’s. When I’m driving my car around town and when I had my accidents. I still remember when I told you to go up and you told me you couldn’t fly. I thought I was so funny. That was when you took me to gymnastics that one time because my dad and mom could not.

    Grandma is okay. She still misses you. She is slowing down too and feeling her age a bit more, but she doesn’t want many people to know that. She had such a great composure and peace about her when you passed away. No one would know.

    When my husband brings me coffee in bed I hear grandma always say the same thing about missing you bringing her coffee. It reminds me of you and all the amazing things you did for your “Love. “

    I have never forgotten you and your memories are in my heart forever.
    I love you,


  10. rebekkalynn9800

    This is the second letter, sent in reply by the Killer. It is also a turning point in my book. That might be why it might not make a lot of sense. Anyway, I hope you like it!

    Letter to the Listener.

    Dear Listener,
    Hello, Listener. My name is of no importance, but as you called me in your past letter, you can call me Killer. You were right about a few things, like I do know who you are, who your brother was, and, the truth is, I do care. That’s why I did what I did. It was to honor a last request to a friend of mine. No, not your brother. Although, he did know me as well. He knew this would happen, so he left me something before I killed him.
    He really did care about you. I thought you should know that. He asked something of me before I killed him, you know. He asked, “Can you tell my sister that I love her?” He said it was a last request and that he wanted me to tell you that.
    I don’t know why, but I said that I would do what he asked. I wondered how I would do it, though. I was lost as to the how and the why. That is, until I saw your letter. I guess you could say that it opened a door for me. So, I decided to write back.
    You were wrong about one other thing as well. I won’t be coming back. But, if you want, we can continue to write back and forth to each other. I would understand if you didn’t want to, but I think it could be a good thing. For both of us. I won’t show my face. I’ll just write to you. If you want to write back, just drop your next letter outside the window. I promise, I won’t lay another hand on you or your family.
    I just want to talk, without talking, I suppose. Anyways, I guess I should be on the lookout for more letters. So, goodbye until next time.
    The Killer

  11. rebekkalynn9800

    This is the first letter, sent by a girl who call herself The Listener. It is also a turning point in a book I am writing. Enjoy!

    Letter to the Killer.

    Dear Killer,
    Hello. My name is Listener. I know you know who I am. You killed someone very important to me and I also know that you know who I’m talking about. My brother. He gave me the nickname “Listener”, you know. I guess I’m angry. I think I’m more confused than anything else, though. Mostly about the why. Like, why did you kill him? Why did you attack me as well? And lastly, why did you let me live?
    I guess I just want to know why for some closure. Maybe. Or maybe not. I guess I have to ask myself the “Why” questions sometimes as well. I just wanted to tell you something about him. You know, your last victim. I don’t really know if you had others. I just wanted to tell you that he was my world. He was my life. Though you didn’t kill me physically, I felt like you took a piece of my soul when you killed him.
    I don’t even know if you care about this. I just wanted to write to you. There’s something else I wanted to say, though. For as long as I could remember since you killed him, I had hated you. I wanted nothing then your death. To make you suffer for what you did to him.
    But now… I don’t know why, but I don’t hate you anymore.
    Maybe it’s because I know that hating you won’t bring him back. Well, nothing can, I suppose. So then, what’s the point in hating you?
    So, if you do ever read this, I won’t expect a reply. I won’t even expect remorse or guilt, nor an apology. I guess I just wanted to get some stuff off my chest, before you come back. I figure you will. You know, I’m “Unfinished business.” So, if you do come back, I won’t fight back. Heck, I won’t even cry for help! I’ll just be here, to, well, listen. That’s what I do best, you know? I listen. I won’t judge, I won’t interrupt. I’ll just… Listen.
    So, I will direct you to read this, but I suppose you don’t have to. Anyway, I guess I will say goodbye for now. I know you will be back. So when you do, I’ll be ready.
    The Listener

  12. Mya

    Dear Brother,

    I hate you for leaving me, but I still love you. Though we never got on good terms, I would agree we made a great team. I remember when we stole $100 from grandma’s and didn’t know any better, but still, thanks for keeping an eye out, couldn’t have done it without you. There are many things I couldn’t have done without you, like going out doors, I never would have left my bed if it wasn’t for you knocking at my door, pleading me to play basketball with you. I remember when we were scared because we were left along in mom’s van and we started crying. I’ve done a lot of evil and devious things, and most of them were with you, bro.

    It only seemed like yesterday we were running around trying to put our boogers on one another. You’d laugh with your blond hair streaked with dirt and I would scatter chalk on your head pretending it was fairy dust. I don’t understand, of course there were times when you were weak, but you’d always fight when your life was on the line. You always fought with a smile, even when you didn’t know you had it-no one knew you did.

    I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I didn’t know what I had been contagious. I didn’t know my body was immune to it and not yours. I didn’t know playing with your could kill you. I didn’t know being friends with you could be costly. I didn’t know it was I who killed you until mom told me, screamed it at me even. I was older, but you always stood up for me, saying that if you did a good deed you would get a reward. There was no one to stand up for me, I couldn’t do it myself, I relied too much on you. I’m not ready to let you go, I not ready to face my sin. Why did you leave me? When you said were going to live together forever in a castle I was happy, but we’re not living in a castle; I would be happy if you just stayed with me, why couldn’t you have stayed with me?

    If only… if only I could change fate; before everything started, I would ignore you. Push you away. Insult you. Mock you. I would make you hate me with your entire being. That way, you would avoid me. Look away. Never to come close. I’m sorry, but you would probably say “it’s okay if I’m gone, I’ll be back!” in the terminator voice. And walk around in funny robotic movements. I’m sorry I couldn’t save. I’m sorry I killed you. I hope in heaven, you will still love me, I might be joining you soon so, wait for me.

    Forgive me,
    Your Sister

  13. DCLehnsherr

    My psychiatrist to me that I should write a letter after our session today; I think she meant that it should be a letter addressed to a relative who passed away; my grandmother or step father perhaps, but I couldn’t do that. You see, when it comes down to it the letter she wants me to write is about loss, and while I lost them, I lost you more. Is that possible, degrees of loss? I suppose that it has to be since you are easily the one I think about the most. My shrink won’t get it, a lot of people don’t. I didn’t used to understand it myself. When I first found out about you, I asked myself how chickens could even be pets, they are food, surely! But you were a pet; actually no, that term sells you so short; you were not a pet; you were a friend, a confidante and, to be honest, you were also my rock.

    You see Clinty, I am not sure I would have managed the first few years in this new place if you hadn’t been there. You were one of the reasons I chose to stay; hell I kinda had to, what with needing to move homes and a delay in the new place being approved, but still, when my step father made the offer, you were one of the reasons I said yes.

    I remember the first or second night I was there, I got so worked up that I ended up breaking down, and unlike now where there is nothing to hold but my own insanity, I held onto you, and though you won’t have understood anything that was happening, you were a comfort all the same. After that you were always there to make me smile and to cheer up the darker days; of which there were a lot as my step-father lost himself to his alcoholism and loneliness. On the days when I simply didn’t think I could cope, I would just have to hold you in my hands, inhale your sweet scent and know that everything would be okay.

    But this isn’t just about the happy times, at least that is what my shrink said, she wanted this to be about the darkness too, so I will share something with you. I do have a regret; a really big regret. I regret that I didn’t see you more when it all fell apart. I regret that I didn’t look past the dirt in the brooders, the distance between us and the mere seconds I’d have had with you before being forced away. I wonder sometimes, if I had been stronger, would I have been able to help you and the others have a better end of life? I was a coward by the end, my own mind was so tormented by online and offline stimuli that when I was alone I just needed to stay that way and when I saw how you and the flock were being tendered to, I couldn’t handle it. It didn’t feel that it was right to endure a night of idiocy just to see you, but now that you are gone, I think I should have put up with it all just to have had a chance to say goodbye. I never imagined that I would lose you; that there would come a time when you couldn’t be in my life. I lived as though you would be eternal, but you weren’t.

    I miss you Clinty. I miss you every second of every day, but never more so than when I am upset and want someone to hold.

    I don’t know where you go; if in fact you go anywhere, but wherever you are I hope that you are at peace. None of us had peace in your final few weeks, but I sincerely hope you have it now.

    If he is there, pass on my love to Erik too. He lost out because you were first, but he gave me a great many laughs too.

    I love you both and since I didn’t get to say it to you in person, I will say it now: Goodbye Clinty and thank you for everything you gave me while you were alive 🙂


  14. Mary Catherine

    Hey Grampy:
    You were my first. My first death. What a shock it was when I realized you were gone and never coming back. I was fourteen and you were 79. I love you so… still, writing this brings a tear to my eye and a lump to my throat. Who will sit on the hillside and count train cars with me? Who will trek up the hill in the woods by the tracks and get Gramma’s greens for her Christmas window boxes? Who will sit in our chair together and read the same stories over and over? Who will love me even when I am not speaking to them because they read the wrong words just to tease me?

    Who will hold my hand walk around the farm with me?

    Who will I sit and watch wrestling with? No one can yell at Big Moose Sherlock like you did. Who will sing the soft Irish songs or chuckle at my school troubles and make them better with joke or a poem?

    No one can fill my Grampy hole. You were it for me. After you it was a mess. Thank god, you still look out for me. I know you helped me through drunken scrapes when I was lost. I still feel you and know that your love is real. Thanks, Grampy for teaching me about love. I do believe in it and feel it in the world today because of your love for me.

    Love Mary Catherine

  15. randi100

    I have decided that it’s time to put some things out there. I do not know why you decided to cut all contact with us all those years ago. I also don’t know why you suddenly decided to pop back into our lives. What is your motivation? Is it money? If it’s money you are looking in the wrong place. I don’t have any money. What would you use the money for, drugs? How can I trust you? You left,without a word, without a goodbye. Why should we take you back? I don’t know if you ever cared about us at all. That’s what I would say to you if I could but I am not that brave.
    You were just a kid when you abandoned us. My cousin, you had just lost your mom. Is that when you turned to drugs and men? Look what happened. I can’t wrap my brain around the fact that you are 49. I can’t believe that you have 8 kids by 6 different guys. If only your mom had lived. I don’t think any of this would have happened.
    What do we do next? Is there any way that we can reunite…..I don’t have any answers.

  16. CHDlovesbooks

    Letter to a Lost Loved One

    Mom, I never once imagined my life without you. Thirty years after you have gone, I am still trying to pick up the shattered pieces of my heart. I loved you so much and love you still, and sometimes at night I cry for you, for what could have been…

    I wished I had listened to you more, but at 17 your ideas, guidance and warnings sounded so much like you just did not want me to have any fun. I know I broke your heart that day when I promised to kill myself if you did not sign for me to get married at 17. But mom, you were right. It turned out just as you said it would.

    But mom you know what? The prayers on bruised knees which I know you sent up to God for me has finally caught up with me. I am a mother two now, a lovely young man and woman. I have tried to train them up the way you did me but I need you so much mom. I miss the little things and the big things. I miss you combing my hair and watching me do my school work. I miss you singing those gospel songs at the top of your voice. Even though they were always off key, mom you were the best performing artist I ever knew. Thanks to you mom, life for me has been ‘good’. God’s faithful promises to you have come true in my life. I am remarried to a wonderful gentleman who loves the Lord with all his heart. He is an ordained Elder. We have recently built a lovely home. I work with the government, your grandson and granddaughter are Police Officers, but in their leisure time they perform their own songs. They currently sing at weddings and other functions. Your grandson recently sang at the island’s very first National Hero Award Ceremony. In fact, just last year, he was the artist who serenaded the Festival Queen Pageants on stage. Like you mom, I am praying that all this talent will be used to God’s honour and glory.

    Mom, do you remember how much I loved writing? Remember how, when we were in our good times and I used to make up stories you for you? Remember how you would crack up with laughter at my antics? Guess what mom…I am a published Author now. Imagine that! I have written and published three books, the kind I know you would love me to read to you. They are Youth Power, Aunty Kate’s Short Stories and The Worth of a Man, and I am currently working on a romance novel. I even have a website http://www.catherinedorsette.com Friends and supporters tell me how much they enjoy reading my books and though I am glad for the feedback, it makes me sad. I can only think of you, see your face light up as my characters come alive for you.

    But alas, you are gone. Gosh…..

  17. T. Ransom

    Yikes — someone just told me that talking about your family’s ethnicity is akin to racism in some parts of the country… but this is my truth, so I hope you will not be offended.

    Dear Geraldine,

    You were my first loss – the oldest hole in my tin whistle heart. I was just six. You were all of thirteen.

    It was a lifetime ago when Mom called us in from playing kickball in the street. “Geraldine died,” she said plainly, her face clouded with confusion.

    Died. I tried to make sense of the word. Oh, I knew what dead was, but you were a kid and kids don’t die. Maybe this was one of those “figures of speech”– things grownups say when they really mean something else. “Congenital heart defect” was another, which meant you died suddenly.

    At the wake, there were more figures of speech. They said you had “gone to heaven” but there you were, asleep, wearing the same pale blue dress you had worn to your Confirmation party only a few months earlier.

    “She’s right there!” I said, exasperated with the grownups and their double-speak.

    You looked so beautiful and still, with your heart-shaped face and dark curls, like the porcelain dolls you kept on your bed. They were mostly for show, but you always let me play with them anyway. The next time I asked to play with your dolls, I made your mother cry. I thought I must have said something awful and I felt ashamed.

    The dolls remained untouched for years, as did the posters on your bedroom walls: The Beatles, the Monkees, Elvis Presley. I remember once you asked me:

    “Who do you like better – the Beatles or the Monkees?” That was easy. The Beatles looked like dirty hippies, and Davey Jones was cute and funny and practically child-sized.

    “Wrong! You like the Beatles. If anyone ever asks you that, say the Beatles. They’re much cooler.”

    Ohhhh. I felt chastened, enlightened by the master who had imparted a precious nugget of teenaged wisdom. How lucky I was to have you, my cooler, older cousin.

    You used to brush my hair, and take me to the park with your friends. I would walk between you and our cousin Diane, and you would each grasp one of my hands and swing me along like a ragdoll. When your arms got tired I would giggle and prance between you and beg for more.

    You took me around to meet your Brooklyn neighbors. “This is my little cousin,” you said proudly, and everyone laughed when I hid behind you. They spoke awfully loud in words I didn’t understand, and it scared me. I was the pasty-faced, half-Irish cousin from the suburbs who spoke little Italian.

    Eventually I learned some Italian, and even went to Italy and visited the village where our grandparents were born. I met people there who shared our family name and they called me “Famiglia.” Family. As if we really were long-lost cousins.



    Our cousins have scattered to the four corners of the country: New York, Florida, San Diego and Oregon. But we still talk about you on Facebook. We post old photos and discuss where we were and what we were doing and wearing, and of course, what we ate. And you are very much there in our midst.

    Diane says she has been unable to speak of you for most of her life. She has never gotten over it.


    I wonder what your life would have been like. Would you have married, had children, had a career?

    Do you remember us? Do you see us? Do you know I have a son who is older than you were then, and a little girl with a heart-shaped face? And that Diane is a grandmother?

    Do you know that I carry your name with me, that I took Geraldine for my confirmation name? It made your mother so happy.

    I adored you then, and I miss you still, but I will see you again one day, Geraldine. We’ll listen to the Monkees – or the Beatles – and you can brush my hair. Unless you’re still thirteen in heaven, in which case I will brush your hair.

    Famiglia is forever.

    Your loving cousin

    1. Critique

      You probably won’t see this because we’re on to the next prompt, but I had to post on comment on this lovely story. It was beautifully written and it resonated deeply with me – therefore it is my favorite prompt here 🙂
      Thank you for posting T.Ransom.

        1. Kerry Charlton

          In hopes you’ll come back and read this, T. Ransom, this the kind of writing that comes from one’s soul, honest, sincere, poignant, wonderful. I’m so glad I stopped by to read you. Kerry

    2. cosivantutte

      Hey! Sorry I’m late commenting on this one, but better late than never, I guess. This was wonderful. You and your cousin were so close.

      For the record, I loved the line about Davey Jones being child sized. That made me smile.

      Great job!

      1. Just JM

        Thanks Cosi. And for the record — T. Ransom is me, JM. Just trying out new names after last weeks SQL debacle. But I’m going back to JM because I’m having an identity crisis. Thanks for reading and commenting!

  18. willowtree

    Hi George,

    Am I your friend? I can’t quite make sense of our relationship; we never passed from level one. Was it a friendship? Perhaps we were simply acquaintances? Could it have been the beginnings of a passionate romance? Maybe we were strangers thrown together by circumstance? It doesn’t matter. Except that it made it easier explaining the depression I suffered after you drowned.

    We have only truly spoken once. Do you remember? You asked me over, back in those days when we were living on University campus. Your room was an amalgamation of interests; extreme sports posters, Buddhist quotes, law textbooks, surfboards, beer bottles and a pile of clothes discarded in a corner. As habit instructs, I picked a book from your desk and flicked through its pages, entranced with its Zen and life affirmation quotes. We soon delved into conversations about meditation and the many meanings of life. You told me about the meditation classes you attended every Monday night.
    You said, “Just catch the train to Thirroul, it will drop you right outside the community centre”, as I viciously hung onto the dream of having enough money to go along too. I had never thought about meditation or Buddhism before.

    Would you believe it, George, that I now meditate and practice yoga every morning? Would you believe that that lost, wide-eyed first year girl has been chasing a dream to write? That I am training to be a high school teacher to inspire students (hopefully) to listen, create and write? Would you believe that the day I sat on your bed, looking through that book, with that one chance conversation about meditation would facilitate a life change? Ironically, among my friends I am now known as the Zen-woman, the lover of life, as I tried to adapt the phrase you coined which was printed on plastic bands that we, 300 of us that attended your funeral, wore on our wrists: “A smile can save a life.” The grief and support at your funeral overwhelming.

    I didn’t want to give that Zen book back to your family. Please forgive me. It stayed on my bedside table for as long as my conscience allowed me. I wrote out every single one of those quotes. Every single one. They stayed on my wall for two years until I moved. Then they stayed safe, tucked lovingly into a folder. When I finally gave the book back, your parents were grateful and my lips smiled but I was screaming, beating the inside of my ribcage with two fists. If you were watching, George, did you see how much I didn’t want to give that piece of you up? Please, forgive me.

    George, our friendship may have just begun to bud but I miss you. I hope you are inspiring and jovial wherever your wanderlust feet have taken you.

    The Zen-woman

    1. Reaper

      This is gorgeous and emotional. Very nice. I don’t recognize the name, should I be saying welcome, has the sql error claimed another, or is it just my bad memory? No matter what I liked this.


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