Letter to One Long Passed

I am very lucky. Very few people close to me have passed away. My grandmother passed away at the age of 96, and her sister at the age of 102, probably to out-do her. Last summer I lost my grandmother-in-law, and in February I lost a close cousin-in-law. And for the first time in my life, I lost an internet friend last week. I grieved for them as I was permitted to grieve by them, meaning their lives and wishes dictated how I grieved for them.  One person over which I never had the chance to grieve was my paternal grandfather, for he died before I was born. So, my letter will be to him.

Dear Papa,

I never knew you. You were gone before I came into the world, but that is no excuse for being remiss about knowing you. Growing up, I never asked about, because no one spoke about you. You were a shadowy figure in the background. I knew you were there, but to me, you were as solid as smoke. When I was young, I asked grandma about you, only to be rebuffed or ignored. So I kept my ignorance, because it was easy.

And then one Christmas I found out you had served time in prison, and that was enough to spur my curiosity. I learned that, through a grave mistake, you tried to keep your family together, and that it was one-sided. I learned you had a talent for turning pieces of wood into art. I learned you found a woman who would love and keep you and wait for you. And I learned that when you died, you weren’t alone.

I’m sorry I haven’t learned enough, but I promise to keep asking and finding out about our ties, flaws and all.

Your oldest granddaughter.

Letter to Someone I Don’t Talk to as Much as I Would Like

Cripes, that’s a long title for a post about not talking to someone. There are several people that fit the bill, but no one comes close to Hubby, since he has been deployed. So, here’s my letter to him.

Dearest,

I love routines. I love how we would call each other near lunchtime and talk before you went to go eat. I love how you would come home and tell me about your day. I love that even when you start with, “You should have seen the guy we had to autopsy today.” It makes life very interesting. I love how we talk as we fall asleep. And I love how we talk about our day while I sip my coffee and you sip your tea in the morning.

Different plans, same goal!

I miss all of that. I’m grateful technology has advanced so far as to make it easier to talk to you every day even halfway around the world. But it’s not the same. And I hope this time away passes quickly, and uneventfully, because I miss making you tea in the morning.

Love,

Me

Letter to a Cyberfriend

I have been fortunate to make what some bloggers and commenters refer to as “fake internet friends”. With very few exceptions, they have fostered strong friendships and have become like family. In fact, the recent loss of my FIF PattyAnn has left me feeling like I lost a close relative. I am lucky indeed to have such great friends, and though I have so many that I can write about, I can only pick one, so I will pick the first 🙂

Dear Max,

What can I say?? You and I share the same brain. That is enough to scare our mutual internet acquaintances, I’m sure. On second thought, it should also scare our common “real life” friends. You have helped me through hard times, and are always able to make me laugh when I feel down. You show a loyalty that is without equal, and a moral compass that is unbreakable. You share your family with mine like we were siblings, and turn to me for advice when you are at your wit’s end. You work so hard to teach your son, and you also work hard to make sure he walks the right path as he grows into a young man. And when I feel sorry for myself, you are quick to kick my behind and tell me to STFU and appreciate what I have. You have never failed to do that. In fact, you may have set a world record for fastest kick…. Anyway, I am very glad we are friends, and so grateful to have you in my life. And for that, I thank you!!

Your twinkie,

Aggie

Two Letters in One Day

I skipped Saturday due to unforseen circumstances. I was supposed to write a letter to my parents yesterday, and one to my closest relative or sibling today, so I shall do both.

To Mom and Dad,

You never taught me to ride a bike, to rollerskate, to write, to read, to macrame, to sew, to iron, to drive, to put on make-up (you’re excused from a few, Dad), to style my hair, to care for myself.

You gave me the tools, and told me to figure it out. And for that, I am very grateful!

Love,

Your number one kid!!!

The next letter is hard, since I am close to all of my siblings, but if I have to pick one, it should be my brother.

To my brother,

I was seventeen years old when you came into the world. You were so adorable! You were barely a toddle when I left for college, but always loved it when I came home to visit, because that was our “special time”. We played games, and watched cartoons, and I rocked you to sleep, and it was bittersweet to come home every holiday and find you had grown taller and wiser, and no longer had time for your older sister. But you remembered, and even as a young boy of ten you made the effort to have time for me, and would include me in your adventures (FYI: never play ball next to the canal). I watched you grow into a young man, and come to me for advice, and felt like I was a second mom to you. And now you are almost 28, making your way in the world, and I still have issues offering you a beer. Thank you for giving me the chance to help you be the man you are today.

Love,

Your big sister 🙂

A Letter to My Best Friend

My friend and blogger Mel has thrown a rather hard gauntlet. The challenge   is to write a letter each day for thirty days to one specific person in your life, current or in your past. Some of the letters I will not be able to write, and some will be written to the same person, but at least it will provide plenty of laughs let y’all get to know me a bit. So, here is Day One, a letter to my best friend:

Dearest,

Our relationship has weathered many storms in the quarter century we’ve been together. Laughter, tears, sickness, health, life and death have intertwined like a growing vine through our hearts, making us one. I know sometimes you are surprised at the things you find out about me, like the blogging thing, for instance, but even vines need a little room to grow. And though I grow, I shall also grow with you, until I’m old and gray….wait a minute…

Anyway, I never say it enough, but you are my bestest best friend, and I love you, and I can’t imagine living without you. You accept me, warts and all, just as I accept you. And I think that makes us whole.

Your wife 🙂

The Price of Beauty

Back in November, my sister asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I had told her I wanted an 18 inch long machete. She thought I was kidding, so she went out and purchased a gift certificate to the local mani/ pedi/ facial place. She put a lot of thought into that gift, because she is always at a loss when it comes to gift giving to her older sister. I think my whole family has the same issue. For the life of me, I don’t understand what is so hard about getting me knives or ordnance. But I digress.

The one and only time I had a facial was back in 2001. Hubby very kindly purchased a complete spa experience for me, to include a massage, lunch, facial, and haircut and style. I spent the entire day there, and completely enjoyed it. But it had been a while since I had been, so I went thinking this would take about 40 minutes.

I was wrong…

It started out innocently enough. I was told to wrap myself in a towelwrap and lay under the steam. I lay under the full force of hot clouds for ten minutes. Thank goodness I am from the tropics. Next, the specialist placed some cleansing lotion on my face and neck, letting it sit for a few minutes, before applying a scalding hot towel on my face, impeding breathing, and crying. Once that was done, she applied some majikal stoof that was based with peppermint oil. OMIGAWD!!! MY SKIN IS ON FIRE!!!!!!!!111ELEVENTY!!! I am whimpering by now, and the specialist asks if I’m doing ok. And of course, I said I was fine. She proceeds to place another hot towel, which I barely notice because of the peppermint zinging through my pores.

Next up, instruments of torture. Now, I don’t have the most perfect skin. But really, did she have to take a freakin’ RAKE to it?? She began with my nose, which does have nerve endings on it, along with a host of blackheads and imperfections. She is at this for almost thirty minutes. Then she begins on my cheeks and chin. The longer she does this, the more I realize how totally deformed my skin must be. I am patiently waiting for her to finish, and feel my body relax when I hear her put away the rake. I take a deep breath, and BAM!!! Another hot towel on my face. By now, my pores can be sold off as condos. I figure she is done by now, and ask what is next. She replies, “Now is exfoliation.” How bad can it be?

After the assault on my pores, and the peppermint oil, the answer is, pretty fucking bad. She takes some scrub that is formulated to be “gentle” and begins to grind it into my face and neck. She grinds for a few minutes, making sure to really get it into the wrinkles, I imagine. When she is done, I breathe a sigh of relief, which ends in a small yelp as yet another freakin’ hot towel is draped on my face. She wipes the sand away ( I assume it’s sand), and begins to lightly apply another concoction on my face, this time a cooling one. By this time I realize my entire body is completely tense, so I force myself to relax. Just in time to get a hot towel plopped on my face. By now, I am praying to God to let her forget to finish the facial, or for the place to lose electricity. She then begins a “massage” on my neck and shoulders, and by massage, I mean her hands are crushing any and all resistance by my muscles. Finally, she tells me she is done, and I get up rather wobbly, my left eye trying to adjust.

For the record, I don’t have a low tolerance for pain. After all, I gave birth twice without the aid of an epidural. I do have a low tolerance for strangers digging into my skin. I think I will make sure to give my sister a gift certificate for a facial for her birthday. Unlike me, she would love it.

Oh, and did I mention the specialist was Chinese? That should explain a lot 😉