All My Love & Sympathies

Dear 15-year-old Marie,

Hello, how are you? It’s strange to write a letter to my younger self – oh wait, that line was probably very cliché. I’m sorry. You don’t get any cooler as you get older, in case you were wondering.

Well, you’re thirty five today, Marie. The good news is we’re 35 and alive. You know who’s not alive though? Mom. Sorry if that threw a wrench into the time-space continuum. And you know what you would never think you’d be feeling today? Relief and guilt. We’re 35 and Mom has died and I feel relieved. I’m writing to tell you not to feel bad for feeling relieved, the way I am now.

I’ll tell you how it happened – it happened five years ago. So why am I writing about this now? She died of a heart attack, of course. A woman who kvetched to everyone and their mailman had to be suffering from hypertension.

Oh I’m also writing to tell you not to worry so much about boys right now. You will find someone amazing, and he will be a good one. That’s all I’m going to tell you for now, since some things should remain a mystery because there is nothing like that first savory taste of Something Good.

Anyway, guilt. Don’t feel bad. Because if it’s anything I’ve learned (you’ve learned) in the next twenty years, it’s that it is okay if your family is not perfect. It is okay if you feel disconnected and different, and it is okay to make a family of your own. Nobody’s family is perfect, and for once, I give you permission – I give us permission – to disown our family.

What family really is are the people who are kind to you, no matter what.

All My Love & Sympathies,
Marie, 35.

(302 words)