Letter Essays
Drew Chodash
Sept. 1, 2013
Period 6
Dear Aunt Frances,
In my younger and more naive years, you wrote me a letter. This letter brought me joy when it arrived, for as a child, I rarely received much mail. You told me how much you missed me and could not wait until I came to visit. Out of my own foolishness, I didn’t write you back. Now, after all these years, I am finally responding:
I miss you too. More than words can describe. I remember the day I learned that I would never see you again. Prior, I believed that life was endless and carefree, as most nine year olds did. But for the first, I saw the darkness of the world. I soon realized that death was inevitable, although not ready to acquire it. Even at your funeral, I still had my doubts. But as time went on, I finally accepted the fact that you were gone forever. Seven years have gone by. I am now a different person. I have experienced situations, just like your departure, that I believe have made me stronger. But those events also made me realize that sometimes ignorance is bliss. I can see the fatalistic side of life, which makes me appreciate the miraculous side even more. Still to this day, I look at you as my role model. Even when you were at the peak of your illness, I know you radiated comfort towards your love ones. I did not get to see you when you were sick, and despite me not being able to stand aside you and fight, I am grateful for that because all the memories I have of you were the ones of you being healthy and lively.
I don’t think there will come a day when I don’t think about you, and how you did what you loved. I hope one day to follow in your footsteps and be creative and take risks, and most of all travel. Once you told me a story about the Grand Canyon. Fran, you loved it there. You said that the wind was different and the sky bluer. However, the thing you told me that stuck with me the most, was how you explained that the experiences you had molded you into being you.
Sept. 1, 2013
Period 6
Dear Aunt Frances,
In my younger and more naive years, you wrote me a letter. This letter brought me joy when it arrived, for as a child, I rarely received much mail. You told me how much you missed me and could not wait until I came to visit. Out of my own foolishness, I didn’t write you back. Now, after all these years, I am finally responding:
I miss you too. More than words can describe. I remember the day I learned that I would never see you again. Prior, I believed that life was endless and carefree, as most nine year olds did. But for the first, I saw the darkness of the world. I soon realized that death was inevitable, although not ready to acquire it. Even at your funeral, I still had my doubts. But as time went on, I finally accepted the fact that you were gone forever. Seven years have gone by. I am now a different person. I have experienced situations, just like your departure, that I believe have made me stronger. But those events also made me realize that sometimes ignorance is bliss. I can see the fatalistic side of life, which makes me appreciate the miraculous side even more. Still to this day, I look at you as my role model. Even when you were at the peak of your illness, I know you radiated comfort towards your love ones. I did not get to see you when you were sick, and despite me not being able to stand aside you and fight, I am grateful for that because all the memories I have of you were the ones of you being healthy and lively.
I don’t think there will come a day when I don’t think about you, and how you did what you loved. I hope one day to follow in your footsteps and be creative and take risks, and most of all travel. Once you told me a story about the Grand Canyon. Fran, you loved it there. You said that the wind was different and the sky bluer. However, the thing you told me that stuck with me the most, was how you explained that the experiences you had molded you into being you.