Pat Taub
What if you had a chance to pose lingering questions to important people in your life who are now deceased? Poet Victoria Chang did this very thing, writing letters to her deceased parents, which she compiled into the book, “Dear Memory.” Chang, in trying to come to terms with her sketchy knowledge of her parents’ upbringing in Taiwan, wrote them questions about their early lives in Taiwan.
Chang’s journey got me thinking about my own incomplete conversations with deceased relatives and close friends.
Victoria Chang, relaxing at home with her beloved dogs
I decided to write letters to the dearly departed, but with a different focus. I wanted to write thank you letters, to express my gratitude that was left unsaid when they died.
Maybe it’s not too late? Maybe they can receive my messages in the spirit world? If not, I can soothe my heart following the old adage, “Better late than Never.”
To My Mother, Jane Conrad First:
I was a rebellious child and teen, acting out to get your attention. I wanted you to be a physically loving mother, but your own troubled family history got in the way. I’m indebted to you for modeling kindness to strangers. At the Farmer’s Market, you would slip a little extra cash to a farmer with a sick child. You always insisted that I invite the unpopular girls, the ones left out by the other girls, to my grade school birthday parties.
Thank you for giving me an appreciation of art. I will never forget my first trip to an art museum. We lived in Washington, DC. I was nine and you took me to the National Gallery. You positioned me in front of masterpieces, inquiring what I saw in them and gently guiding me towards a deeper appreciation of the artist. I modeled this behavior when I visited art museums with my young sons.
My mother, Jane Conrad First, celebrating her 80th birthday
To My Father, Edward Curry First:
You were not an easy parent with your explosive temper and insistence on things going your way, but you had a soft side, from which I benefited. Thank you for sharing your favorite books, for coaching me before I delivered a school speech, and for encouraging my dreams. A big thank you for telling me never to give up on my dreams, to embrace the saying, “Persistence is the better part of change.”
My handsome father and my toddler self, Avalon, NJ.
To My Ex-Husband, Marvin Taub:
We had a rocky marriage, fueled by your alcoholism, which prompted our divorce. It took me a long time to get past my anger towards you, but once you achieved sobriety, we found a rapprochement. We shared your later years as a family, celebrating holidays with our sons and grandkids. I’m grateful that we were on good terms when you died.
Thank you for the spirit of adventure you modeled for your sons. They’re forever curious and eager for new experiences. Thank you for the beautiful gardens you created in our homes.
Marvin reading to grandson, Max in 2010. Marvin died tragically in 2014
To My Friend, Zoe:
You could be a real pain-in-the-ass when we led workshops and retreats together. Once I get past your demanding ways, I’m grateful to you for modeling courage for me. You never backed down from big dreams, like running a spiritual retreat in Crete and inviting me along to co-facilitate. Now whenever I hesitate to leap into something that feels scary, I summon my “Inner Zoe.”
Zoe looking elegant and Goddess-like in her native Greece
To My Friend Ray:
You were a terrible chauvinist, whose behavior accelerated when in the back-slapping company of my ex. You made fun of my Feminism. All that aside, I’m thankful to you for including me in your last days. You modeled the kind of death I would like for myself. You were kind and full of Buddha-like gratitude at the end.
Ray, four months before he died in October, 2009.
Wherever you all are In the Spirit World, I hope my thanks reach you, offered in deep appreciation for helping me grow soulfully.
