Letter #70 - Joan

As a general rule, I am not very good with "old" people.  By this I mean anyone who has white or grey hair but has also lost any or all of their mental capacity.  I don't say this to be mean, I don't feel they are any less important, I'm just not always good at communicating with them, which is odd because I'm great with kids and there are often parallels in the communication style needed.  I guess it's partially just that - I'm always worried they'll think I'm talking down to them, or that I'm being disrespectful.  I have a hard time separating their age & life experiences from the mental state they may be in.  My brother, on the other hand, is amazing with this group.  He's like a god in nursing homes... it's incredible to watch.

My husband and I have a neighbour who is teetering into this category.  She's still pretty sharp mentally, but she I get the feeling she is excruciatingly lonely.  She also isn't afraid to ask for help... a lot.  While this is a good thing, it can also be frustrating for me because sometimes her requests cut into my plans and I don't feel any emotional obligation to her.  *That* may sound bad, but I'm being brave and going with honesty.  I'm not proud of these feelings, but they are there.  This week Joan called me late one evening while I was in the middle of working on a research paper.  I almost didn't answer, but decided at the last second that if she was calling this late it may be an emergency and I knew I would feel awful if I found out the next day she had needed to get to the hospital or something worse and I didn't pick up the phone.  She was fine, she just wanted to know if we could take her trash out.  That didn't bother me, it was the 30 minute conversation that ensued about why the complex changed the dumpsters again and didn't they think about the fact that people like her can't haul their trash up over their heads to dump it in, and her plan for talking to them about just that... in great detail.

Remember the part where I was in the middle of writing a paper?  I don't have it in me to be rude, so I stayed on the phone until she was ready to hang up, but I was a little annoyed.  As she hung up she told me that she would hang a bag with some cookies on her door for us because she had bought some (insert another long story with unnecessary details such as which area of the store these cookies are located in and roughly how much they cost and how often she is able to find them) and wanted to share.  I thanked her and hung up.  It just so happened that my husband and I were headed out a little later to do a quick late night grocery run (once I was actually at a good stopping point for the night with my paper) and we grabbed Joan's trash on the way out.  The bag with "a few cookies" turned out to be a huge collection of cookies, crackers and candies... enough to last us weeks.

I felt a pit in my stomach.  Here I (again) had been so focused on my own needs that I really kind of blew her off (even if it was internally)... I only half listened to her once I understood her request, and when I hung up the phone I made some sarcastic comment in my head.  What made me feel so bad was that I had been annoyed and frustrated, and she felt heard and special because someone kept her on the phone for a half hour talking about dumpsters and cookies.  So I decided to make things right for me, I would invest some time in her as well, and I wrote her a letter.  I could stick it under her door, but I'm mailing it, stamp and all, because I think it will emphasize that I am trying to acknowledge her.  The letter was short, I don't really know her well so I didn't have a whole lot to say, but I put in the time and effort to recognize her without being petty and frustrated.  I felt better about it, and I have a feeling she will be really excited to get some "real mail" from someone who took the time to care... Joan gave me a wake up call on myself, so I was glad for it, and I hope it will help me be a better and more patient person in the future!

Letter #65 - Todd

This letter was written as an attempt to heal something internal.  Todd is a good friend, and I worked with him for 5 years in an amazing work experience that forever changed me.  When I was laid off, I had extremely mixed feelings.  I tend to take things personally, and so it took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that me no longer being employed wasn't personal.  I had friends and colleagues who felt my circumstances were unfair, but I understood the situation, and wouldn't believe that I had intentionally been taken advantage of in any way.  I stand by this.  I believe Todd is a good person, and that he does his very best with what he has.  He and I had an excellent relationship, and I miss having him in my life.

Last year, he was able to take a job in a different part of the state so he and his family moved several hours away.  This quickly felt like a nail in the coffin of our friendship to me as I began to feel as though I fell into the "out of sight out of mind" stereotype.  Todd is a people person, but in a very different way than I am.  I know him very well, and again, I struggled with not taking our lack of contact personally.  I decided recently that I needed to simply let go of the struggling pieces I've been hanging on to, and focus on restoring the friendship.  I don't think he feels it has suffered the way I do, but for me, it's important that I work to make it better so that I don't kill it with my own negativity.

The letter I sent him isn't much, it isn't an outpouring of the heart or a begging for attention.  It's simple and includes an object I know he's been looking for, that ended up in my things when we parted ways.  I hope it helps get us back in touch.  I know things will never be like they were, both of our lives are so different now, but I do miss having him around to bounce ideas off of, or to run questions by, or to send that really offbeat photo or joke I come across that most people wouldn't get... we need another pool party... with umbrella drinks.

Letter #40 - Connie Sue

Sometimes it's difficult to remember that the kids who were kids when I last saw them in person are now teenagers and young adults.  That presents a challenge when I write to them because I have to be very conscious of my tone and language.  Instead of asking them how school is, I have to ask what they're studying, or if they've decided on what they want to do when they graduate.  Instead of using phrases like "I hope you are having fun" it's "what kinds of stuff are you doing these days?"  It puts me in a reflective mode as I remember letters I used to get from older friends as I was growing up.

Letter #40 went to a girl I know named Connie Sue.  I met Connie Sue at a church camp in Alaska the same year I met my husband.  I got talked into helping out with the Junior High class and ended up having a really fun time getting to know the 10 kids in the class and spending time with them.  We taught each other crazy campfire songs, made s'mores, wandered around nature preserves, etc.  It was overall just a really neat week.  Connie Sue, her brother and her cousin were all in that class, and we spent a lot of time watching the family dynamics unroll.  It was cool to see that even though they picked on each other a lot, they also still liked each other quite a bit, similar to my brother and I at those ages.

I sent Connie Sue a wedding photo and invited her to look me up if she was on facebook (I haven't been able to find her there yet).  We have exchanged a handful of letters over the years, but I'm hoping this one will maybe invite a more regular exchange.  She was a really neat kid and I'd love to get to know the young woman she's grown into since I last saw her!

Letter #30 - Aunt Pat

I have a very large adopted family.  Aunt Pat has been a part of that adopted family for as long as I can remember.  She has another half, Uncle Jim, who passed away last year.  It still feels weird to say her name without his.  When I was doing my undergrad, I spent a lot of my summers with them in their home in Toronto.  They were a huge part in helping me to understand what healthy relationships should look like.  Since Uncle Jim's death, I have quadrupled my efforts to keep in touch with Aunt Pat.  We are eagerly anticipating the results of her recent eye surgery in the hopes that she will be able to come and visit us soon and get a much needed break from her current every day life.

Writing to Aunt Pat always fills me with very intense emotions, and I usually need a few moments to sit and reflect after I've finished writing her a letter.  I hope my card brings a smile to her face and a hug to her heart.  I have a deep love and appreciation for Aunt Pat and just keep holding her in my heart through this time of transition for all of us.

365 Letters - Reflections

When I began this project earlier this month, I did expect that communication with my friends and family would improve over time.  I expected that from time to time I would get a letter in response to ones I sent.  What I didn't expect was the number of responses and thanks I've received.  I posted one of my blog posts on facebook only to have the recipient of the letter see it, read the post and thank me profusely for my kind words, and express how perfect my timing had been in her life... and she hadn't even received the letter yet!  This week I received a series of text messages from one of my letter recipients telling me how emotionally moved she had been by the note I sent her, and how grateful she was that we were friends and that I had been thinking of her and felt the need to send that note.

It's been a cool experience so far, much more so than I had expected, and I am so glad I came up with the idea and haven't given up on it yet!