The Unwritten

Laura's clothes are still in the drawers in our bedroom and still hang in the wardrobe. Her stuff is in the top two drawers and mine in the bottom two. In one of her drawers, hidden underneath the side with her headbands and hats, I found writing paper. Lots of writing paper. She had told me she had ordered loads and I'd forgotten all about it until I came across it when looking through her stuff. It was her intention to write letters to everyone; family, all her friends and the kids. She told me she also wanted to record videos too but was worried that she wouldn't have the nerve to say what she wanted to say without breaking down, so letters were the best solution.

Unfortunately, those letters went unwritten.

When she was given a year, she thought she had at least a year. We both did. We both hoped and wished for longer. We actually didn't consider that it would be less. Within those hopes and wishes there was time to think about what the contents of those letters would be and to actually write them. But it was not to be.

A few years ago, when my oldest friend was diagnosed with cancer and was told that he didn't have much time left, he wrote me a letter and it's an incredibly precious thing. I keep it in the drawer beside my bed and every so often I get it out. Sometimes I read it, sometimes I just look at it. I don't necessarily have to open it and read it as the feel of it suffices. Just holding the envelope itself is sometimes enough. It is a real and palpable gift of love and friendship and such a beautiful thing. Heartbreakingly beautiful but beautiful nonetheless. It is also deeply personal. What that letter is can never be understated. He took the time to write and reaffirm our bond and our love. I will treasure it forever.

I am saddened that the recipients of Laura's Letters won't have that token. Especially the kids. Not that I needed a letter to measure my love for my oldest friend and nor will they. However, it's nice to have something personal and individual. We all know love isn't measured by such things. Love lives long in the memory and there are many things that reignite that memory just when it seems to have faded even slightly.

It was once said to me that as devastating as cancer is, at least you do get the chance to say goodbye. That I suppose is true in the majority of cases. In the 5 months we did get, Laura accomplished so much, even given her very poor health towards the end. We may not have gotten our letters but she left us with hope and the courage to go on. And so much more. While we all would like to leave something behind, something to be remembered by, some sort of legacy, sometimes it is enough to have left that; courage, love and hope. It doesn't need to be written down if those you care for know how much you loved them. Just don't let what goes unwritten go unsaid.