Letters For You

I Said It

Telling the truth Sunday, January 21st, 2018

By Emily Davis

I told the truth. To myself. Exactly 577 days later, I told the truth. I told you the truth. The words just came out of my mouth like they always did when I talked to you. Did you hear me? I hope you did. I always hope that when I go visit you, you can hear me or at least see me.

It was a normal Saturday. I had nothing to do, so I took a bus home. My mom had been bragging about wanting to see me for a few days. To go to my old house, you have to drive by the graveyard. I stopped. It was freezing cold but I still stayed for over an hour without saying anything. I just sat there, my back against the stone. And for the first time, I didn't cry.

And I said it. The three words I dreaded the most. At first, it was just a whisper. "You're dead," the words got louder each time I repeated them, until I was shouting in the cemetery. I couldn't stop. It felt like I was making up for over a year of keeping my mouth shut. I was crying as the words kept coming out. "You're dead, you are dead, you're fucking dead." Then, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was an old lady, her grey hair giving away her age. She asked me if I was okay. I told her that you were dead. She is the first person I ever told the words to. I had told people about you before, but I always used expressions like, "he is gone," or "he didn't make it." This old lady was the first person to hear the word "dead" come out of my mouth.

She was visiting her husband. He had died twenty years ago from lung cancer. He had suffered a lot. "You know he didn't suffer, that must be a comforting thought," to what I answered, "You had time to prepare yourself, that must've been nice." It was the first time that someone wasn't offering pity. She found the positive side. She made me talk about you. She told me I didn't have to use the past tense when talking about you. If you loved Lord Of the Rings when you were alive, then you still love Lord Of the Rings. You even saw the new Hobbit movie before anyone else, up there. She kept looking at the sky when she talked about Robert, her husband. She told me she had never wondered about what happens after death until she lost him. Now, she imagines him in the sky, watching over her and their kids. She said that she would ask Robert to look after you. He would look after you and she would look after me.

I asked her if she still loved him. She told me she never stopped and that I didn't have to stop loving you to move on. It helped. She taught me that I didn't have to forget you to be happy. I just had to learn how to be happy with the memories I have and to stop regretting the ones we would never have. I'll try, I said.

She gave me her phone number. "Call if you need anything, darling. The next time I'll come see Robert, I'll bring flowers for your man as well." Don't be surprised if you see an old lady with grey hair put flowers on your grave. Say hi to Robert for her, please. Her name is Margaret. Tell Robert she loves him still. And know that I love you still. Tell Robert that I'll look after Margaret. Tell Robert to not be surprised if a twenty-years-old girl with blue eyes and long brown hair puts flowers on his grave.    

Do you want to know something funny? Robert died on the day you were born. Your birthday is his death anniversary. February 1st,1999. Crazy, right? Maybe Robert had to die so you could live.

I felt peaceful when I left the graveyard. I went to my mother's house and sat on the couch while waiting for her to come home. She looked surprised to see me. I told her you were dead. She was confused at first. She wasn't sure who I was talking about. "He's dead," wasn't very precise, I have to admit. She said, "I know, love," and took me into her arms. I cried. A lot. The last time I let my mother hold me like that was after I got your mother's call the night of the accident. My mom slept in my bed that night. She slept in my bed last night.

I could have never known that saying the words would help me that much. "The truth will set you free," is that what they say? The last stage of grief is acceptance. By saying the words, I accepted. I am not denying, I am not angry, I am not bargaining. I am still a little depressed, but I don't think the feeling will ever go away. My heart still stings when I think about you, but I am fine. I accepted the fact that I'll never see you again. I am nearly okay with it. The need to show you everything beautiful I see during the day is gone. I don't feel guilty anymore. About anything related to you.

I'm free. And it feels just like we imagined. It's the best feeling in the world. It feels like eating ice cream while watching movies in our pajamas on a snow day when they closed the school and our parents are working. It's that good.

250 reads!! That's great, thank you so much to everyone who takes the time to read Emily's letters.

I was wondering, I have ideas for a second book of letters which would be set in the future. Would any of you be interested? Thanks again. Alexandra xxx