An Old Fashion Letter

I recently received a letter in the mail. A handwritten letter on stationary. Written in ink with cursive handwriting. What a delightful surprise! Part of the letter read:

 

I really miss this old fashion letter writing, remember in the old days when that’s how most people communicated? Long distance phone calls were to expensive & no internet was available. Oh the good ole days.

 

The letter was from my cousin. It brought me back 40 plus years to our childhood. Her father worked for International Paper® and one of the perks was defective paper. I don’t know if he got it for free or if employees got a discount on these “seconds” but he would give us packages of “not good enough for distribution” paper. Oh, how I loved those reams of paper. I never knew what I would find inside.

The paper was colored. Sometimes the parcel contained paper of all the same color. Other times it was a rainbow of colors. Sometimes the paper was thick; almost like cardboard. Other times it was so thin it was almost tissue paper.

It was that paper that taught me to write letters. My mother and grandmother taught me to fold the paper just the right way so that it would fit into a small envelope for mailing. I would fold it in half before picking up a pen so that I had four sections to write on. Sometimes I would add stickers. Sometimes I would draw a flower or sun in the corner to give my letter a little style and elegance.

It was that paper that taught me to say “thank you” for gifts; birthday presents and Christmas presents. It was that paper that let me tell my grandparents what had happened in school. It was that paper that kept me close to my Aunt and Uncle. And it was that paper that taught me about connections.

Thank you, dear cousin, for the walk down memory lane. Thank you for reminding me to make connections. Thank you for the old fashion letter.

 

 

 

If you enjoy my blog and would like to follow me on Facebook, I can be found at The Reluctant Survivor. And on Twitter @relucsurvivor.

Life & Death

My cousin is dead. There’s not much more to say about that. He died almost three weeks ago. Technically he is an in-law. He was married to my cousin. He has been part of our lives since we were teenagers. That’s a long time.

My cousins are like my siblings. The six of us grew up together and we have a tight bond. Losing David was a shock. He is the first of our generation to die. As you can imagine, there is a huge hole in his absence, though I’m not sure it’s fully realized yet. But I don’t want to talk about his death. I want to share with you his life.

In many ways David was larger than life. Everything he did he did to the fullest. He loved his wife and cared for her as if she were a princess. His sons were his whole life. He did not hold back on correcting them if they were going astray, but he also showed them great love through his actions.

And if his sons were his world, his grandchildren were his universe. What he would not do for them! His eyes would sparkle just talking about them. He would grin ear to ear when they came over for a visit. He took them with him wherever he went. He could not get enough of them.

Beyond his immediate family he cared deeply for his extended family. He took care of his mother-in-law. He helped his father-in-law with yard work and other chores that are now a challenge for my uncle. He adored my mother and my sister; always having a kind word for my mother when they spoke on the phone. My sister was his kid sister. Their friendship was filled with teasing and jokes that only siblings are allowed to exchange.

As I shared with friends, his life was defined by passion. If he loved you, he loved you fully. David showed us what it meant to live. And now he is gone. It hurts.

If you enjoy my blog and would like to follow me on Facebook, I can be found at The Reluctant Survivor. And on Twitter @relucsurvivor.