Which was why it was time to write the letter she’d been thinking about for so long. She’d send it as an email, but she wanted to write it all out first. Like she was writing a letter to a friend, which she was, really.
Writing it out was good. It would help her give the words the right tone, she hoped. Emails were so impersonal. But she’demail it all the same, because she was done putting it off. She wanted it done and dusted.
There was a lot that needed to be said, but it had to be done carefully. Firmly. With kindness and affection, but without any excuses for the behavior on either side. She was going to be truthful.
And then she was going to hope for the best.
She took a breath and put her pen to the paper.
Dear Kyle,
I hope that you’re doing well. I miss you terribly. I know it’s silly of me, but I can’t help feeling like a nan who’s lost her grandchild. Age does that to you. Makes you sentimental. You’ll see one day.
Are you getting on all right? I don’t even know what you’re up to these days.
I suppose that’s why I’m writing. To tell you I miss you. That I think about you every day.
It would be lovely if you came for a visit. I know your father has reached out to you a few times, but he’s heard nothing back. Maybe you haven’t gotten his letters? Or your phone hasn’t been working?
She knew that wasn’t true, but she wanted to give him an easy way out of his stubbornness. Kyle was as intractable as his father, but Mitch only had himself and his genes to blame for that.
I understand that your father didn’t live up to your expectations during your mother’s illness. You know what? He didn’t live up to mine, either. You know something else? Neither did you. But I realized those were my issues to deal with, not his or yours. You can’t expect anyone to live according to your own rules, can you?
Everyone deals with horrible, painful things in their own way. Just like how you focused solely on your mum andignored the fact that your father was falling to pieces, too. If that was harsh of me, I apologize, but I doubt anyone else has had the courage to say such a thing to you. And it needs to be said.
You might think he abandoned you and your mum by concentrating on his work, but that was his way of dealing with a situation that had no good outcome. Not defending it, mind you, just pointing out something you might not have realized. His writing was a safe place for him. A way for him to keep things routine. I believe he was hoping that routine would somehow make everything better. That if he tried hard enough, life would go back to being the way it was. The way it had always been before the wretched C word was spoken.
After your mum’s passing and after you left, I worried for him. I wasn’t sure he’d get through his grief. He still hasn’t, if I’m being honest, but he’s trying. He’s been talking to someone who’s helping him a good deal. More than that, it isn’t my place to say.
I don’t know if I’ve said too much or too little, so that’s probably a sign I should close. Could you do one thing for me? Give serious thought to speaking to your father. Neither of you is ever going to heal completely until that happens. And this separation, or whatever you call it, is only keeping the wounds fresh.
Listen now, if you don’t want to do it for me, do it for your mum. You know in your heart it’s what she’d want.
Whatever has happened between you and your father is fixable. He still loves you very much. As do I.
With great affection,
Joyce
She read the letter through again, changing a few words here and there, fixing a mistake. Wondering if it would have any effect or if she was just wasting her time.
Well, there were worse things to waste time on, weren’t there?
She took her notebook and pen over to the end of the kitchen counter, where she kept her laptop, a present from Mitch and Jeanie some years ago, and sat on the stool in front of it.
She opened it up, waiting for it to come to life.
Once it was ready, she logged into her email, ignoring the sales adverts she had no memory of signing up for, and clicked on the button to compose a new message.
She carefully typed in the letter she’d written, giving it another thorough read. She nodded when she was done. She’d said everything she’d wanted to.
Hmm. Or had she?
She quickly added a P.S.Your father doesn’t know I’m sending this, so if you could keep this between us, I would appreciate that. I’ll make you that cake you like when you come to visit, too.
There. That would do it. But would it do any good? She could only pray it would. She added Kyle’s email, hoping it was still the same, then took a breath and hit Send.
She stared at the screen. What was done was done.
