*Just a warning to those who find it hard to talk about death, this post uses the D word quite a bit. But the point it makes is really good food for thought.
I’m a planner.
Actually if I am truly honest, I am more of a slowly recovering control freak. I am the kind of person who even thinks about trying to control their own funeral. Yes, I know that is slightly twisted, but I guess my ability to laugh at the funny parts of death (and yes, you can find humor in death) is what has kept me sane after years of ER and oncology nursing.
So it should come as no surprise that for years I have been thinking about writing “goodbye letters.” You know, the ones I am talking about. The ones that get opened if you walk out of your house one day to go to work and end up never coming back.
Those personalized heartfelt letters written to your loved ones telling them what you loved about them, what they meant to you and what you wish for them for the future now that you’re not there in person anymore to tell them.
Yet something has been holding me back. It’s probably mostly laziness coupled with so many demands on my time. Or it could be the fact that it’s hard to deal with your own mortality, and I know how physically draining it would be to write them. I am not quite sure what it is stopping me.
Or at least I didn’t until I had a talk with the husband of a patient of mine who passed on. He came to say goodbye to us about a week after his wife was buried, to close the circle. His wife had been a courageously strong, yet soft, woman who was not afraid of death. She knew she was dying, and it took less than a year.
He told me how she had thought about leaving letters for their three kids and himself and in the end decided that she wouldn’t leave them with that burden. She didn’t want any of them at any point in their lives living according to her will or her dying requests. She wouldn’t be there to point out to them if they were interpreting what she had written wrong.
That was the first time I ever thought of “goodbye letters” as being a burden instead of being a gift of love. It made me think. And think. And think some more.
And now days later, I’m still not sure about what I think.
My personality is one that wants to soothe all hurts. It’s so hard of me to think of not leaving words behind to comfort and give strength to those I love. But maybe that’s still the control freak part of me talking. Maybe the right thing is not to leave words that have a potential to cause guilt or grief no matter how unintended it may be.
What I do know is that my patient was courageous for letting go. Courageous for leaving this world and trusting her kids and loved ones to live their lives to the fullest in the way they felt was best. As a mother I know how hard it is to let go of that control and let your kids steer their own lives and that’s with me around. To think that I would relinquish my last bit of guidance before death and not give them any tips, that sounds way more courageous than I am. Or maybe not.
What do you think?
Is it better to leave behind letters for loved ones in case you die, or is it selfish?
This has been an original post to World Moms Blog by Susie Newday of Israel. You can find her positive thoughts on her blog, New Day, New Lesson.
Photo credit to the author.
Susie Newday (Israel)
Susie Newday is a happily-married American-born Israeli mother of five. She is an oncology nurse, blogger and avid amateur photographer. Most importantly, Susie is a happily married mother of five amazing kids from age 8-24 and soon to be a mother in law. (Which also makes her a chef, maid, tutor, chauffeur, launderer...) Susie's blog, New Day, New Lesson, is her attempt to help others and herself view the lessons life hands all of us in a positive light. She will also be the first to admit that blogging is great free therapy as well. Susie's hope for the world? Increasing kindness, tolerance and love. You can also follow her Facebook page New Day, New Lesson where she posts her unique photos with quotes as well as gift ideas.
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Wow! I don’t know what to think. I wouldn’t want to try and control their destiny, but I would want them to have my words of love in print to hold onto.
Of course, laziness and the fear that addressing the issue of death would make it come faster will probably ensure that it never gets done.
(My husband is in Israel on business this week).
But that’s just the point. Sometimes words we think are loving and uplifting can end up unintentionally being a a “hidden” burden. Something that a person tries to constantly uphold or standards they try to meet.
I think it is best to keep telling our loved ones out loud and often what they mean to us.
What does you hubby do and where is he in Israel?
i’ve actually thought about writing letters a few times. i would model it after yaakov avinu’s blessings in the torah (minus the prophecy part ;), where he talked about their strengths and weaknesses. i probably would keep away from the weaknesses and talk about the things that i love about them. i can’t see how that would be a burden, unless these were qualities that they might feel compelled to hold onto when in fact they are holding them back. for example, if i were to write that i love your kindness, you might feel compelled to be kind even when it might be kinder to yourself to say no.
i still think that overall they would be a gift, not a burden.
never thought of it this way! Interesting! I think I have to agree. If you live your life always telling your family how much you love them, they will know and you don’t need to put it in a letter. When they remember you, they will remember that you loved them, and will remember what you DID to love them, not just the words in a letter.
You patient sounds like a wise woman!
I agree with Lady Jennie, I would want to leave parting sentiments of love for them to hold onto. (I guess whether they keep them or burn them is up to them – LOL!)
While my grandmother didn’t leave me a letter before she passed on, I dearly cherish a few books she gave me during our time together that she wrote little notes in. But, maybe that’s just me – the sentimental one that treasures those kinds of things!
I’ve been thinking about leaving to my kids something like a diary, not letters.
When my daughter was born I planned to start writing just for her… about her development, her little life, how it all look in my eyes. I haven’t written anything yet but I feel really strong urge to start it now when our second child is a few months from being born.
I want to leave them something. Not money, not pictures, not memories that they will already have. I want to leave them something that if they read it they’ll be surprised, they’ll learn something new about themselfves about their parents, about world.
… and yes I wish to leave them some part of me… that if they read it they hear my voice and see my face… .
What a post – I love your openness to share your thoughts and everyone’s take on such a tough topic. I too started a blog for my girls and find myself writing when something really hits me. Unfortunately, I don’t think it is enough.
What I have done is written them each a letter for special occasions. Never telling them, just putting it into their keepsake box. On these times, the letters are almost always loving, warm and positive.
Hmmmm, you’ve really got me thinking here bc I’ve never thought about writing these letters. I’m trying to think about how/what I would feel if I were in my children’s shoes receiving these letters and all I can think about is “Why didn’t we hear this until now?” I guess what I’m feeling is being living in the moment rather than prepare for the “what if”. Say those things now, show love now, guide them now, disagree with them now, fight now, hug now… Maybe it’s my personality or my philosophy about being present.
My mother killed herself when I was a preschooler. I would have truly appreciated a note to say that she did love me, and that on some level, in spite of her suffering, it was hard to leave me.
I think there’s a vast difference between leaving a “death note” for older children or family members who can cherish their own memories vs. something for a small child who, if (s)he loses a parent, must depend on third parties for information.
Since I’ve become a mother I’ve made a conscious effort to build a body of historic evidence of my day-to-day love for my daughters: notes, photographs, videos. If I’m not there for them, it will be something solid for them to hold onto. I have very little of that for myself and oh, how I wish that I did.