Letter to "Little J"

While I enjoy the process of writing anything - prose, stories, blogs - the thing I love the most is to sit down and write a letter. I love that I have the ability to tell the people I love how much I love them - in something written and permanent. I love sharing my feelings in a way that allows me to think about them. Feel them. I have thought of one day being able to write the story of my life - or at least sharing it with my children/grandchildren - through the many letters I wrote over the years. They are windows into my heart. They tell stories of love and heartache. I love to receive letters. Nothing makes me happier than reading words of love, support and friendship. Letters allow us to keep people with us, even after they're gone. These words ease pain, provide hope and express love.

Tonight I sat down and wrote a letter. Just the same as a blog post would do - if not even more - this letter expresses my feelings. It was inspired by the events that occurred today - the simple, everyday events that took my breath away, and made me so happy to be in this life.

Dear "Little J":

I remember when your dad told me about you. It was on our first date. I was so excited to meet you, to be a part of your life. I thought of all the time we would spend together. The memories we would make. Meeting you for the first time was such a joy. I immediately fell in love with you. Immediately. I remember the responsibility you automatically took on at 4 years old – understanding (but not quite sure why) the challenges adults with children face when dating. You wanted to know if your dad had told me about you – if I knew he had a little girl. I remember thinking about the incredible burden that must be at four – always wondering about your parent’s choices, the people in their lives and how you fit in. I wanted to be in your life starting from that moment, always making sure you have nothing but love surrounding you. The more time I spent with you, the more I loved you. And your dad. I had an instant “just add water and stir” family. And I loved it.

Then I got scared. I was scared of the future. Of playing a role I didn’t know that I could play. Would I be able to be the strength you will need as you grow up and experience life? What will I say when you get your heart broken for the first time? How will I react when you say the inevitable “you’re not my mother” line? My heart was breaking just thinking about the future and all the possible, hypothetical heartache. For a moment, I lost sight of all the happiness, love and friendship we would most definitely experience. For these fears – and letting them grab hold of me – I am sorry. I will always be sorry for the moments in your life you experienced anything but love and acceptance from me.

I love your capacity to love. From the moment I met you, you have been opening your heart to me. You immediately accepted me as part of your life. Without question. You trusted me. Each and every time I see you, I find a new reason to love you for who you are. I find myself excited to see the woman you will become, and the choices you will make. I also get nervous and scared, knowing some of those choices you will make may cause you deep pain. And there will be nothing I can do about that pain.

I hope I can be the friend you will need. I hope you will always feel my love, and always know I am here for you. I hope you will always know that you and your dad are my family, and nothing will ever change that. I will make mistakes. And you won’t always want my friendship or my advice. I hope you know that no matter how much life changes, you will always be our priority, and will always be loved. You took a piece of my heart the very first time I met you, and have been taking little pieces ever since. No amount of fear will ever change that.

Thank you for the love you bring to my life. For the happiness. And the laughter. For showing me a side of your dad that only makes me love him more. I look forward to our life together – every single moment.

All my love,
K