DEAR HOLDER OF THE PEN

Tonight my story is a work of fiction. Once again, what I had planned on writing faded, and an idea came forward. Bear with me as I put together the thought that bugged me all day.

Dear Holder of the Pen,

Last night I heard the sadness in your voice. I am so sorry for your loss. If I could hug you and tell you that everything will be okay, I would, but I can’t. I can only say that I am here for you and always will be. I know how much you loved your husband.

 I was there when you were a teenager and fell head over heels for a seventeen-year-old handsome boy. ( at least that’s what you told me) I remember when you shared your first kiss, the picnics, roller skating, riding in his red runabout to the movies. I could tell you were falling in love with the hearts you drew on the top of the pages.

 Then the wedding, the excitement, and when your new life began. You especially liked to write the word, Mrs. over and over again.

 I was there each day throughout the years as you learned how to cook, and when you went to the hospital to give birth to your first child, a little girl named Caroline. I was there when your mother died.

 I remember every holiday, every tree, Easter egg hunt, every Halloween costume you created, and every turkey you made. I learned your deepest fears, hopes, likes, and dislikes.

I remember the tears you cried when Caroline graduated from high school, then college, and when she fell in love with an eighteen-year-old. You shared your happiness and fears. I loved it when you told me about her graduation from nursing school, her wedding, and her three children.

 Do you remember how excited you were to become a grandmother? You shared so much that I felt I was part of your family.  The night you shared Joe’s diagnosis, I knew your heart was breaking, and all I could do was wait for you to put the words down.

 Each night I waited for your words. I waited, and I waited. I knew something was terribly wrong.

Then one night, there you were, ready to share again; the pain, the questions, and the tears that fell on me.

 If I could find the right words to help you, they would be to tell you that everything has a way of working out. Do you remember many years ago when you shared your faith?  I remember you sharing that hope and faith go together. Lean on your faith now. Go back and read what you shared with me. You might have to search through the many years of memories, but I can assure you that the words are there. Just look. You need to read your words to find what you believed back then.  Do you remember when you shared your excitement about Heaven? Find those words, believe those words, and with time your heart will start to heal. I know that your words will bring you peace.

 We have been friends since the day you picked up your pen, just about eighty years ago. Just open to a blank page and tell me what’s in your heart.

Waiting patiently,

Your Journal