The Letter You Have Not Written

The Letter You Have Not Written

When my husband Jim was dying, our younger son William, then a junior in high school, turned to me and asked what he could do in those final hours.

I told him to write a letter to his dad. So, he would always know what he said to him in the final moments.

William wrote it. Then he climbed into bed next to his father and read it aloud.

I will never forget that moment. My heart was filled with so much love for both of them, and so much anticipatory grief for the loss I knew was coming.

I did not write one. I have wished, every year since, that I had.

In the seven and a half years since Jim died, this is one of the only things I would do differently if I could. It would give me great comfort now to know exactly what I had shared with him in the end. To have a record of what was passed between us in the final hours.

I cannot go back. But you may not have to.

If there is someone in your life who is dying, or aging, or whom you love and have not yet said what wants to be said, this is the letter I am here to teach you to write.