Two years since my dear husband Ken died, and 5 years since my loving sister died, and 27 years since my loving aunt, my older brother and my amazing mother died, it seemed time today to go through some of the boxes left behind by my mother. They had been kept safe and transferred to me after my sister Mildred died. She was such a heroic and giving daughter for my mother for many years, as I lived in New York during those years.
With my husband’s sudden death, in 2019, it has taken me some time to want to look at anything from the distant past. Now, it seems to be all I want to do.
The letters I found, mostly folded inside a Christmas or Easter card, a get well or a sympathy card, contained a treasure I had no idea would affect me the way it did. Perhaps the impact is intensified because of and our required distance from each other, but the love shown in these letters reminds me of what is really of value in life.
My mother Ethel Oglesby, who died at 88 in 1994 had remained in close touch with childhood friends and relatives from the farming country in Meadville, Miss., where she was born. Then she moved to Jackson, Miss., married my father Fred James, moved with Southern Bell to Atlanta, and back to Hattiesburg, Miss., making and keeping close friends with church and family and the Bell System.
Credit: contributed
Credit: contributed
Most of the letters are from the last 20 years of her life, and they indicate that all these elderly people wanted to stay in touch with each other. “It has been hard to find time to write you, but I really want you to know how much I love you.” Sister-in-law Bess, at 84, asked her bridge club to pray for my mother after they finished their bridge game. And then she wrote, “You have so many new friends now who care about you and prayed for you.” My mother died the following week. Church friends continued to write long after mother could not get to church, and even after she moved to a nursing home where my sister lived. The letters with 20 or more signatures and messages kept coming, expressing their love and closeness to her, and hopes that she would get better.
As they were all elderly, they shared their ailments too: “Ralph’s hip pain,” the “‘Arthuritis’ that keeps me from putting a turkey in the oven,” “Just hurt all over,” “Had a bout with my old enemy asthma,” “Another heart procedure, but thank God for it,” “He can’t hear a freight train.” “Just can’t balance my check book with what the bank says, but I gotta do it.”
After mother offered to help her sister one time, the sister wrote, “How do you think you can help me if you can’t get out of bed yourself?” This same sister Aunt Sis wrote a card to mother almost every day during mother’s last year when she was in a nursing home. I have counted 100 letters, notes or cards! “Good morning, it’s a pretty day.” “Thinking about you all the time.” “Just wish I could see you or even talk on the phone to you.” “Can’t seem to get anything done.” “John caught a big bass today.” “We prayed for you at church this morning and tonight too.” “Just love you so much and want to give you a hug.” “So glad you are close to Mildred.”
My father’s dear friend from early telephone company days was killed in an electrical accident just after a few years of work. Our family remained very close to his widow and she was so proud to say that my father was like a brother to her. She sent cards and letters frequently, and every year she sent a Christmas card with a photograph of a camellia bloom taped to the outside. She was proud of her camellias. The first year mother did not get the camellia bloom, she knew Lettie had passed away. It was true.
Throughout these letters of friendship, there is a theme of acceptance of change, letting go, the coming of death, making peace, gratitude and support for each other. The ways they held each other up through the handwritten word is inspiring. They were thankful for the memories they shared, the blessing of closeness, and the fervent confidence in the kingdom of heaven.
I found some letters that I had written too. One was not long after our son was born. I was thanking her, and I said, “I know I have been and will be a better mother because of you. Thank you!”
Reading these letters helps me focus more on what is valuable and enduring about life. I can’t imagine a better way to pass out of this life than to be surrounded by love letters from an entire life of blessings from church, family and friends. I will keep these letters for my children and grandchildren, and hopefully for generations beyond that. What a blessing to be able to go back in time and read these letters of love.
Perhaps as we all suffer from isolation now, we can find ways to tend to what has been truly meaningful in our lives -- write a note or email to a beloved family member, or connect with any elderly person we know, to help hold them up in these times.
Mary James Dean holds a Doctorate of Ministry, and is a licensed marriage and family therapist in Carrollton.
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