A Short Appreciation of Letters

 

Many of you know that Kath, my mother-in-law recently passed away and that the last few weeks have been an emotional rollercoaster with the small repeatedly stabbing, realisations that I won't see, hear, touch, speak, laugh, cry, or have any human interaction with her again.

Then I found her letters. A collection of scabby bits of paper, mainly torn off an old, spiral-bound notepad. Hastily written, often misspelled and very short. She wasn't a great letter writer but those brief, sweet notes have become very important and I am so glad I kept them. Mostly they are written for my daughter when she was little. There's a note about a special bear Kath had knitted especially with written instructions on how to love and look after it, another note advising my daughter to put her baby tooth under her pillow for the fairies, and another containing a recipe for Grandma Salt's lemon curd. These scribbled notes have become a precious treasure trove of family history moments.

This got me thinking about letters and how important they become to us. I have letters written by another long-gone friend, a kind of surrogate, loveable mad aunt who was a prolific letter writer. She would reply to every letter, Christmas card, and birthday card, (any communication really) with a lengthy letter, usually choc full of her satirical views on politics, tennis, and her adventures with the Alnwick Playhouse. She could even make snooker entertaining. Her letters would literally take days to read properly and best enjoyed with strong mugs of tea. Letter writing for her was an art and I feel honoured to have received so many from her. 

Now and again, I feel the urge to write a letter. Mostly I will type them but will print them out and send them in the post despite the shocking price of a stamp. Email is easier but there is something special about receiving a letter in the post. As I get older, I acknowledge the number of letters received has declined dramatically, it seems to be an art less practised these days or perhaps it is an art practised mainly by those who are retired and have more time to spare? Does anyone have spare time anymore?

Well, I'm glad I have kept all my letters, it allows me to trample down memory lane until I have gorged myself and agree enough is enough, and then they are safely tucked away, left to be found again in another few years.