An Undelivered Letter – To My Loved One

In Opinion/Personal, Personal, Random on February 1, 2013 at 11:26 pm

To you,

I don’t know whether to feel relieved, sad, or guilty.  Right now, I feel a little of all three.  But mostly guilty.  I was dreading the day, watching the calendar as it crept up.  But then I got so caught up that it came and went and I hardly noticed.  I didn’t even realize until just now that I had missed it. And now I battle this gang of emotions and the only thing I knew to do was this: to write it out.  To write it to you.

The fact that you will never receive this letter does not hinder my writing it.  It doesn’t make me feel liberated, as I wish more than anything that you could.  I thought of writing to you often and just putting all the notes into a jar and saving them up until it was full and I could bring it to you, but I know I can’t.  The road to you has been all but demolished, so much so that I am afraid to even try it.  And besides, I know even if I did, it would not be you that I’d be finding there.

There were two things I never got to do.  One you knew: to keep open communication via instant messaging that you had set up and talked with me about.  I got so busy with school and friends that I forgot to search your email.  I forgot to find you.  One you did not know.  It was a cheap painting that I had been working on of wolves.  It was an advanced paint by number, if you will, and honestly it looked like shit.  I felt compelled to finish it and worked fervently for several days, but then I broke. The paint had dried up, the colors weren’t matching anymore, and my shaking hands couldn’t catch the details.

For a while, I couldn’t watch a Kay Jewelers‘ commercial without crying.  For a month I went to class in a fog and otherwise slept.  I couldn’t talk about it.  I couldn’t talk about you.  It took years to get through a story about you without my voice breaking.  And now here I sit, grieving the fact that I went through the anniversary without shedding one tear, without even realizing it was that day.

Maybe it’s a good thing.  I did finally get to a point in which I could talk about you and not have to excuse myself afterward so I could dab my eyes in private.  Maybe this is another step towards acceptance and a healthy moving on.  But that creates another emotion: fear.  I fear this process.  I don’t want that to go away.  I want that hurt, just a little, because it reminds me of how important you were.

I know that the pain easing does not mean I don’t care as much as I used to.  I know it’s supposed to get easier with more time.  But I also know that I don’t want to forget those little things that make it so painful in the first place.  I don’t want to cry, but I do.  Not yesterday.  Not on the anniversary anymore.  Not on your birthday anymore.  Not on holidays anymore. And that’s when I realize that I will never forget the little things, no matter what, because all those little things were what made you so important.  There are certain songs that will always remind me of you and your guitar on the front porch.  There are certain movies that will always make me think of Christmas Eve and you opening your gifts and knowing exactly what they were before the paper was even off. There are certain symbols and pictures and objects that will remind me of your connections to our heritage and your tattoo.  There are still those times that I can hear your voice as clear as if you were sitting next to me – and even still those times that I expect to hear that voice answer the phone.  And those are the things that will never go away.  And I will cry, always, because no matter how long it is, I will miss you.

  1. Wow. This is amazing. I cried while reading it (a little embarrassing to admit), but this is so profound. Thank you for sharing this. I know you are probably bombarded with things having been freshly pressed, but I nominated you for a lil’ award before I knew about this post. Your writing is touching and and the fact that this was freshly pressed is so well deserved.

    • Oh my!
      I’m so taken aback by all the wonderful things people have commented that I’ve turned into a 1950’s tv mom with all my “oh my” and “goodness.” I’m waiting for a “golly gee” to slip out! Thank you so much! (now to figure out this award business… :/ ) lol!

  2. I held my breath as I read this note. Everything seemed to match: the girl who could paint, the guy who played guitar. I couldn’t help but wonder if I had found her again. If maybe she was not so lost as I had once thought. If maybe, just maybe, today had been preordained to be the day I found her again . . .

    Then I saw your picture. You are not her.

    It’s been five years since I last saw her, and, in many ways, my life still revolves around her, mostly by the guilt which drives me. She always told me that I was special, that I needed to share with others the workings of my mind. She would say, “You’re too smart for people to ignore you.”

    I wrote a book recently and put it on Kindle. It’s called “Stories of Who We Are and How We Eat.” In the preface, I talk about her, and how horribly I treated her. With the memory of the tears I caused haunting me every day, I doubt I would ever have found the energy to write it, if it hadn’t been for what she wanted me to be.

    You’re right. The pain never goes away. But the little that remains, that is what makes us good people. I’ll leave you with a quotation from the “Wheel of Time” fantasy series (yes, I’m a huge nerd). But, before I do, I just wanted to say you wrote a wonderful post, and I thank you.

    Julien Haller

    “I fight because last time, I failed. I fight because I want to fix what I did wrong. I want to do it right this time.”
    -Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson

    • I’ll give you a quick thanks for taking the time to read and comment on my blog.
      Then I’d like to give you a big thanks for sharing your story. And for also being able to be honest about your past and, while maybe not accepting it (since you say you still feel guilt), you own up to it. No matter the mistakes you made in the past, that is an admirable thing.
      I’m sorry that your hopes were up but that I wasn’t who you were looking for. But here’s how I like to think of things: If you find her again, that is a sign if there’s ever been a sign that you can right the wrongs and make amends and all that jazz. If you don’t find her, then that was what was meant to be. You may not be able to right the wrongs with this one person, but you went through all that to get where you are now (as did she), so it all still served for a better purpose.
      I truly appreciate the time you put into commenting and i appreciate that someone encouraged you to put yourself out there because you have a wonderful way with words.

  3. I could feel my heart quivering as I read this letter. So much emotion packed into one letter to one specific someone. Amazing.

  4. […] An undelivered letter: A simple letter to a loved one past that never got sent. I think this one struck a chord because I had to say goodbye to someone in my life – not by choice – late last year. […]

  5. I have a whole notebook of letters that I have written over the last 2 years. Even though I know I can never send them I like to think he sees them. The pain doesn’t ever fully leave, but I’ve found that it dulls enough to smile with the tears.

    • Bittersweet is the best I know how to describe it. I have reached the point where I don’t always cry and think of the happy memories first, but I still end up doing a kind of half smile / half grimace with tears in my eyes. I guess progress is in how quicky I can compose myself these days. Thank you for taking the time to read and comment.

  6. I hated once one year had passed and I could no longer say ‘this time last year’. I hated gradually realising that the people who said ‘life moves on’ (who by the way I wanted to kill) were actually right and I hated realising that it did get easier.. But it did.
    Thank you for this, touching gut wrenching.

    • Thank you for reading. It is true. Well, it’s true what the people tell you in hard times, and its also true that you want to kill them every time they tell it to you 🙂

  7. missing a loved one whom you know you won’t be seeing or touch anymore is really sad. but those memories are there to beat that sadness somehow. nice article kay.

  8. What a moving post and very deserving of Freshly Pressed! I think most of us will be able to relate to that. Thank you.

    • Thank you so much! I had no idea that this would be such a relatable post for so many people and I consider myself lucky that I let my emotions take over for a bit since I have received many comments of how this touched people or made them think or was exactly what they had wanted to say but couldn’t find words for. Good results for all, I suppose 🙂

  9. Hey. I’m so sorry for your loss – it can be such a struggle at times. I am really glad to see that you’re doing better with the pain. Hope you find your peace soon. Take care.

  10. Awwww…this is emotional on so many levels. I can totally connect with it. Breaking up sucks, especially when you loved that person. What sucks more is losing the comfort of the hurt that losing them caused.

    • Isn’t that strange? That the pain is also a comfort sometimes? Or maybe not so strange, in comparison to being numb to pain, I suppose…humans in generaly are strange 🙂
      Thank you for taking the time to read and respond

  11. […] An Undelivered Letter – To My Loved One. […]

  12. […] An Undelivered Letter – To My Loved One. […]

  13. Such a beautiful letter. Thank you so much for sharing your process with us. So moving and so real.

  14. What a beautiful letter. My blog is chronicling the stages of bereavement since the death of my mother last August. Your last paragraph about not crying on the birthday or anniversary really struck a chord with me. I am still working through this initial stage of grief and pain but it is nice to hear about those who have experienced grief before me and know that things will be ok but also those gone won’t be forgotten but rather remembered through more subtle and natural forms.

    Thank you for sharing.

  15. Awesome concept, several times I have thought of doing that just thing. I especially liked the part about “wanting the hurt”, I feel the exact same way. I believe the only time you quit hurting is when you start to forget, and I would rather hurt.

  16. This is beautifully written. The tears are def unavoidable..

  17. All who have lost can understand this post. Time does heal, right? Or, does it just pile new memories on top of the pain so our connection to the pain is not so strong? Thank you for sharing. Kristi from

  18. […] An Undelivered Letter to My Loved One Casual, Possibly-Nonsensical RamblingsMore Grief […]

  19. Thank you – it helps on days when I find myself doing things like this to remember that even if I am crazy, I’m totally not alone…

  20. Completely moved. I feel this. Thank you.

  21. Poignant and important – thank you. I’ve bookmarked it as I know there will be times in my life when reading it again will be helpful, or a tool to gain perspective.

    If you have a minute, read this. As with your words, I believe these have a voice.

  22. Beautiful post , really sad and tragic i guess. =(

  23. Thanks for sharing your thoughts!

  24. You’ve done an excellent job of writing about grief. It is something one can only know about from experience. It has been ten years since my life partner left me, and I still grieve for her. I speak to her almost daily and try to keep her memory alive, but time has diminished the vivid colors of those wonderful memories that linger.
    Thanks for reawakening the feelings.

  25. Reblogged this on Pictorial ME and commented:
    Simply touching!

  26. just awesome and lovely.

  27. I loved ur letter and have written several of them to family members and old defunct friends…no one wants to be in touch anymore and I find that so so sad, but I persevere with God’s help. I thank you! I have one of those brains that unfortunately remembers all birthdays etc. God bless and I’m reblogging this one.

  28. Reblogged this on I Make things Two/Too and commented:
    Awesome letter that I identify with, but am not nearly in the same league regarding her talented way of expressing herself… it’s very poignant! I hope you’ll take the time to read this undeliverable letter.

  29. made me cry reading your post….reminded me of the man ive fallen in love with….there were so many things left unsaid when we broke up…until now the words i wanted to say are still in my head….i guess i have to let it out and write about it hoping that someday he will read it too…..

    • I agree. Keeping it in and not really knowing is much worse than putting it all out there and not getting the results you prefer, in my opinion.

  30. This was beautiful. Having lost my family this past year, I can not only relate, but truly feel your pain. Finding a source to let it out really does help <3.

  31. You make me want to go tell everyone in my life that I appreciate and love them. So sorry you can’t do the same. Your writing is beautiful and artistic.

  32. This is very touching. Writing appears to be a nice outlet for you. Very heartfelt indeed.

  33. Your words moved me so much that I actually had to ‘dab my eyes’ twice while reading. Also, your post brought back some old memories. May be grief and regret are common to the entire mankind.
    Could completely relate to your feelings.
    Nicely put 🙂

  34. a heartwarming and touching letter. beautifully written coming from the heart.

  35. This was beautiful and described so perfectly how so many people feel

  36. You really took the words out of my mouth. Even i have gone through a similar tornado of emotions. I can totally relate to this….You made me cry 😦 coz its really really beautiful and very touching. thank you so much for sharing this. ❤

  37. I was very moved. As a father who has recently lost a son and a daughter I haven written undelivered letters, too. Blessings to you.

  38. Reblogged this on echocardiogram and commented:
    And, of course, there is that kind of love that lasts beyond…

  39. Reblogged this on Tessa Bertoldi and commented:
    Kay has expressed my grief so well, some days are good, some days are bad. I push on because my beloved always wanted the best for me. He believed in me more than any other, he loved me and my rambling stories. I thank God for the time he gave me to be with my beloved. I now understand something of what God must have felt when separated from Christ for the first and only time. They await for me, my treasures. For now, I will be the person worthy of being called his beloved.

  40. That was an amazingly emotional post and I am very grateful to you for sharing your life with everyone. I cried when I read this as I cannot imagine what you are going through. I know they say time is a great healer but it all depends. I really do hope your pain starts to ease. And I can only say thank you again. Absolutely beautiful.

  41. Congrats what a beautiful touching post. Thank you for sharing.

  42. […] An Undelivered Letter – To My Loved One […]


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