The Letter
Disclaimer : I do not own The O.C., nor am I affiliated to it in any way.
In the letter you never wrote to me, you told me of the troubles that filled your heart and the
heartbreak that you have experienced over the years. Of the poor life you lived during your
upbringing and of the love you felt towards your highschool sweetheart, who would eventually
become my father. You told me of your remorse for the past and of your hope for the future.
Of the life you wish you could have provided me with and the life you wish that you had lived
instead of your own. You wrote to me of the good times in your life, as well as the bad.
You filled the letter with love, heartbreak, anger, happiness, sadness, and any other possible
emotion that you have felt in your lifetime. You wrote this letter on the last day of your life,
you wrote it when you thought that my reading of it would not bring me disappointment in you,
that you would be around to witness. This letter was of the first and last thoughts of your life.
For hours you wrote this letter and when at last the final stroke of your pen glided across the paper,
a breath escaped from your throat that you hadn't realized you had been holding.
A thousand feelings washed over you as you carefully and meticulously folded the letter and
placed it in it's envelope. You felt relief, sadness, closesure, heartbreak; emotion after
emotion, you experienced each one. When the envelope was sealed and my name was neatly
sprawled across the front, you lay it on the night stand next to you and gently blow out the candle
that had provided the light for your writing. And then you closed your eyes and the only part
of you that you left me was the letter. The letter that brought you relief and allowed you to
leave this world; leave me behind, feeling as if you had told me everything and that I would
never have one question unanswered about the life of my mother. The life that was so neatly
buried away in your heart; the life that you spent years hiding from me, only allowing pieces
at a time to become un-covered. And in one afternoon you told it all to me; you told me of this
life of yours all in one letter- the letter that you never wrote to me.