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October 2008 
My mother's letters
Posted on Sep 8th, 2008
by 
Susan
Susan
This is in Response to the Questions and Reflections for September 08, 2008:
After my mother died, we found a plain cardboard box in her room that held an assortment of odds and ends in plastic bags. One bag held a bundle of letters written to her from her brothers while they were away at war, in Europe during the second World War.
By that time, all her brothers had passed away as well, but sitting down on her bed with those letters, I could hear all their voices again. The everyday moments they related to their little sister (Remind Mom to send me more socks, stay in school and work hard, my bunkmate snores and I'm so tired) left me full of wonder about the hour when she saw this letter for the first time too, just out of the postman's hands, brand new, when they were all young.
'God takes with one hand and gives with another' is so familiar we forget it, but in some moments it's poignantly true. My mother never spoke much about her childhood years or how close her family was growing up, but reading her old letters gave me an extra glimpse into her life and somehow made death feel less final and less obliterating, and I found some comfort.
Now, I never throw away letters from family and friends; I let them live in a box in my closet, as my mother's did.
By that time, all her brothers had passed away as well, but sitting down on her bed with those letters, I could hear all their voices again. The everyday moments they related to their little sister (Remind Mom to send me more socks, stay in school and work hard, my bunkmate snores and I'm so tired) left me full of wonder about the hour when she saw this letter for the first time too, just out of the postman's hands, brand new, when they were all young.
'God takes with one hand and gives with another' is so familiar we forget it, but in some moments it's poignantly true. My mother never spoke much about her childhood years or how close her family was growing up, but reading her old letters gave me an extra glimpse into her life and somehow made death feel less final and less obliterating, and I found some comfort.
Now, I never throw away letters from family and friends; I let them live in a box in my closet, as my mother's did.
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I love this… thanks for sharing, Susan. It's such a beautiful story, it brought tears to my eyes reading it. Sometimes I think we can never really know our parents as real, human beings… not in the same way we know a friend or a lover. There is something about that title, 'Mom', or 'Dad', that implies a certain distance and certain rules to dictate the parent-child relationship. And then you have one of these moments when you see them from a totally different perspective and it opens your eyes to a whole new side of them, as a person.
I’m thinking i should clean out my closet…
wonderful story,
Thanks Joe
Thanks for your comments!
I have come to realise of course, that my children don't think of me AT ALL as I think of me; and it's funny that the strongest bonds we have, parents and children, are with people we only half-know, in a way.
I've started writing a memoir of all our family stories to give my kids; I'm wondering how many tears I'll shed over it however!
One of my favorite discoveries was of a letter written by my grandfather whom I never met. He was about 20 years old when he wrote the letter. He and a comrade had saved enough money to each purchase a plane in the late 1920's. They went to Florida, and bought a couple of planes. They proceeded to fly around with very little clock hours logged (50 if I remember). The letter describes their barnstorming adventure and he told of many near misses in the letter. His exhuberance was thrilling!
In the Navy, he worked his way up from airplane mechanic to pilot, and died very young - long before I was born. So, what happened? During submarine manuevers for the Navy, near Barbers Point, Oahu, in 1936 he had a malfunction and crashed into the ocean. He was one of the first pilots to use the Langley, the first US aircraft carrier.
So, as you can see, the letter he wrote was incredibly rewarding to read. I felt as though I learned more about him than all the pictures combined.
Later, I was given many bits of memorabilia. My grandmother had saved a huge picture of his entire squadron from the early 1930's. They are in uniform and the ranking officers are seated-all in front of one of the by planes in a hangar. The picture is about 14 inches by 28 inches long. The photograph was rolled up and store for 70 years, and is in impeccable shape. I had the black and white framed in burl wood in his memory.
A local restaurant sponsored a three month military history reading section in their restaurant. I put together a small binder about Gramps and placed it in there for anyone to read.