Dear Dr. Davis,
I just wanted you to know how much I have enjoyed your classes and how much I admire you. Teachers impact not only one student, but every person that individual student touches. Your creativity in teaching literature made me leave Cherry Hall in a swirl of satisfaction that, yes, you were pouring knowledge into this mostly empty vessel and I might someday be able to do the same. I recognize you could easily have spent your career in research and publishing, but I am forever grateful you chose to be in the classroom. You have made a difference in my life.
Sincerely,
Elizabeth Downing
This is a letter I should have written to one of my favorite professors when I was in college and graduate school in the 1980s. This is a letter I never wrote before she passed away. This is an opportunity I missed.
How often do we go to a visitation or a funeral or a wake or a memorial service and talk to the family and others about the way the deceased impacted our lives? How often do we hear ourselves saying things we really should have said to the person while they were living? How many times have we missed the chance to say “thank you” or “I love you” or “you’re my hero”?
Some years ago, my siblings and I were on the hunt for the perfect Christmas gift for our parents who, as many of your own parents do, told us they didn’t need or want anything at all. In our zeal to do something special, we decided to send letters to a collection of family members, our parents’ friends, our own friends, our parents’ close associates, and probably a few outliers. We started with 50 names and then increased it to 100. The letters requested one simple thing: please send us a favorite story, memory, or message for our parents to keep.
We sat putting stamps on the envelopes, looking at each other and saying we would be thrilled if we received 20 responses to put in a memory album. After we received the first 20, we thought how amazing it would be if we had 50 pages to bind together. We ultimately had 120 beautiful pieces reflecting the kaleidoscope of our parents’ lives.
We used my address for the returns. At the time it seemed like a good idea. What I discovered, however, was that this meant I was the first to read and cry over the beautiful tangles of words and phrases that slipped into my mailbox each day. And by cry, I mean sob buckets.
Each note and letter was carefully placed in an archival sleeve with a label at the top telling us the writer’s identity. Each day more pages were clipped into the binder until it became difficult to stuff anything else between its covers. When I would receive and read many of these gems, I often called my siblings and read the words over the phone. That way, they couldn’t see my ugly cry. They only knew how pitiful I was by the fact I sounded like Rudolph when he tried to cover his shiny nose.
We received funny stories, touching memories, and real “you changed the course of my life” and “I don’t know what would have happened to me” essays. People contributed who entered our parents’ lives in the 1940s and who had met them only recently. People who heard about our little project called to ask if they could participate.
So many of the letters and notes we received would be exactly what we would later hear at our dad’s visitation and funeral. But he also got to experience people’s love and respect for him while he was living. His heart filled to overflowing every time he opened the album. Our mom’s heart still bursts with love and appreciation, as she continues to place letters and cards in the book that has now become three volumes. They didn’t have to wait to know the difference they had made.
So today, as you read these words, I would like to challenge you to begin your journey of gratitude and respect for those who have influenced your life. It could be something as simple as a thank you for the gift of diapers when your family was struggling financially. Their gift to you might be something as complex as helping you fill out your financial aid and scholarship forms when you had no idea what you were doing. Your appreciation might extend to a teacher, a nurse, a custodian, a counselor, a bus driver, or the friend or family member who has kept you from collapsing more than once.
We all have those people. But sometimes those people don’t know they are those people. It is up to us to tell them or to show them. Don’t wait. Don’t miss the opportunity to let someone know they matter to you. Begin now, today, with one email, one phone call, one letter, or one missive sent by carrier pigeon. Now’s your chance.
About the Author:
Elizabeth Downing is Director of Outreach for Timesavers Concierge, Caregiving & Chauffeur in Bowling Green. A 1982 graduate of WKU, Elizabeth is also an attorney, but she found her passion in advocating and providing care for older adults and those with special needs. Elizabeth’s blog, at www.mytimesaversky.com/blog, seeks to raise awareness of issues relating to aging and caring for aging loved ones, and to let people know they are not alone in the journey. She has recently completed a Certificate in Care Management from Boston University and facilitates two family caregiver support groups each month.