Message to Suzie

Funny things old letters, often one seems to read them, understand their meaning at the time, but not feel their meaning. One puts them away in a stack neatly tied with a ribbon in some old, antique wooden box , and not see them for years. Then for some odd reason something happens and the as if by some strange force of magic they start haunting you like some ghost in the night.

Thus are my cherished letters. The past few nights  I have re-visited my younger self in depth, for reasons only known to God. I have been given some form of direction from spirit to do so. Well in form of different signs and a sort of  what I would call “soul poking”. All has a reason I know, especially when it concerns the heart. I have read and re-read so many  of these letters- from someone whom I loved dearly, who loved me dearly.  I suppose I am a hoarder—a violent offender regarding memories. Is this a good thing? I am in total conflict on this point, for when I re-visit those times, I seem to be completely lost within them—it is as if time stood still.  Yes, I cried and I smiled, as I read page after page—life is a human tragedy and maybe a divine comedy for all of us.

Thus last night I have come to the realization of how much my letters meant to her, this wonderful, special soul that was a light in the world.  Oh, I knew that I had brightened up her life, but never really thought how much of a difference they made to her heart. It has just dawned on me how very happy I made her lonely dark days by being ever present on those pages that she kept reading for so many decades of her life. She was very alone the last few years of her life, sad and missed her son terribly. Yet she knew that I was always there with her —as  she read my letters over and over. In one of them she was happy to relate how great it was that I was writing them on the computer, -much easier to read and that I was like Danielle Steele in describing all the details of our life. The mere thought of her brings such a sense of love to my heart.

She loved me dearly, as I so very much loved her. Maybe—no not maybe, but this is the actual reason why I needed to dust off the cobwebs off that oak box and bring those letters once more into the light.  She needed to breathe life into her words once more, to let me know that nothing , no one  ever really passes away once you love them. This was a call from her to let me know, to remind me what I meant to her and that she has not forgotten, as I shoudn`t  forget either. This is not about anything else except, about hearing her voice once again. I now understand fully how she felt about me. I loved her for herself and the wonderful person she was. It was entirely for her own sake only.  She never failed to say how very much she loved me at the end of each letter, and that she thought of me all the time—Now I see. Now I fully understand. Do you?

Thank you darling Aunty May-- I love you.