Letter Writing

I was talking to an old friend today. (She's not old -- we've just been friends since the second grade!) This morning she was going through a box of old letters. They were mostly letters from high school and college friends. She was enjoying reading them and not enjoying reading them. They brought up all sorts of teenage crap (for lack of a better word), but also a lot of love. She had received all sorts of "love letters" from friends. It got us talking about our letters and how they are a record of a life. In this digital age of e-mails, we have no permanent record of our emotions and friendships. (Well, maybe I do since I never delete my e-mails! Are they still really there? Do I really want to weed through it all?) What will remain for our children to rifle through after we have come and gone?

A few months ago, my grandmother's sister past away. Her daughter had recently gone through her old pictures and letters. After Aunt Milly's funeral, my cousins (her grandchildren), my mother and I gathered in our hotel room to absorb it all. There were so many gems we found! Amongst them were a thank you note from my mother, age 8, with some wacky story about my grandpa that she hadn't remembered. Also we found a letter from Milly's daughter, Joan, written at about age 30. The letter could have been written by me. It was about this turning point in her life, becoming a mother, finding a new role in life and still feeling somewhat like a kid herself. We lost Joan seven years ago to breast cancer. What a beautiful reminder it was of the spirited woman we loved. We also found a letter written by my grandmother telling her sister she was pregnant with my mom. It was a very cute letter written by a young woman so different from the woman I knew. The letter also professed my grandpa's assurance that the baby was a boy! (Oops! That took him three more tries!) It is a great piece of history that we can hold in our hands.

In this land of facebook, phonecalls, instant messaging and e-mails, I wonder what my kids and grandkids will look at after my funeral? (Certainly not their own baby books. Guilt trip. Guilt trip. Someday they'll get done. OK, started.) Perhaps this blog will somehow remain. It will be my love letter to them, a picture of me at this age; a picture of them as children. In the meantime, my friend and I have vowed to write each other a letter, with pen and (really nice) paper. And I will store it in a box for my children to find many, many years from now.