In 2007, we posted an interview with Allison Gilbert about her first book Always Too Soon: Voices of Support For Those Who Have Lost Both Parents, which is a collection of intimate interviews about the journey traveled by those whose parents have both died. This week, we are pleased to present an excerpt from her second book, Parentless Parents: How the Loss of Our Mothers and Fathers Impacts the Way We Raise Our Children. A journalist, Allison created the first book when she recognized her need to have her own questions answered in a culture that didn’t generally address questions about grief and loss, especially when the losses are the parents of grown children. Her second book, out today from Hyperion, addresses the ways parentless parents have learned to keep the memory of their parents alive for their children. It is with great please that we post an excerpt of the book, one that is of particular interest to Writing It Real subscribers because Allison solicited an exercise from Writing It Real and wrote in response to it. Both the exercise and her response appear in Chapter 5 of her book. –ed.

Sheila Bender, founder of the online magazine Writing It Real, says letter writing has been used for centuries to evoke deep feeling and intimacy and is actually a recognized form of literature. She says the genre is a perfect tool for parentless parents who want a fresh way to keep the memory of their parents alive for their children. Sheila suggests that parentless parents may choose to write letters to their children as if they were written by the children’s grandparents. “That’s a terrific way to pass on family stories and information. The more of their voice you can translate to paper, the more you honor their place in your life and build a place for them in your children’s lives.”

To write a powerful letter, Sheila offers a few suggestions. First, she emphasizes paying special attention to what you want your children to know from reading the letter. “What are you trying to convey? What lessons are you trying to teach? If you keep thinking about the goal, you’re less likely to have your letter go off track,” Sheila says. Once you decide what you want to communicate and why, the next step, Sheila says, is choosing the right words. “Avoid words that are too general. For example, ‘I love everything you do’ is general. A better way of writing might be, ‘I love watching you on the swing and seeing your legs pump the air.’ Choosing precise words and phrases creates a fuller experience for the reader.”

I followed many of Sheila’s tips when I wrote my own letters to Jake and Lexi from their grandparents. 

Dear Lexi,

I am so glad your mom asked me to write you a letter. What a great idea! There are so many things I’d like to say and never had the chance.

Let me start by letting you know that I heard you went to my office and met my business partner, Janet. That makes me very happy. I used to take your mom to the office when she was your age. Sometimes when school was on vacation, your mom would come to my office and ‘work,’ filing papers, making calls and earning a little money for things she wanted to buy – like cool new shoes or a new record album, which is what we called CDs back then!

Janet and I started our company, Gilbert Tweed, when your mom was just two years old. Your mom grew up with a working mom too! Back then, it was unusual for a mommy to go to work every day and even rarer for a woman to run her own business. That’s part of what made it so much fun!

I know it’s sometimes frustrating for you when Mommy needs to work. When your mom was little, she didn’t like that I worked either. It wasn’t until she got older that she understood just how much I liked running my own business. I got tremendous joy from mentoring the women who worked for me. They’d start out “green,” learn the ropes, and then many of them would spread their wings and fly away to start their own businesses. It felt good to watch them become more independent, doing things they weren’t sure they could do at first. Helping others become the best they could be was one of the best parts of my job.

My favorite things were crafts and travel. I loved going to craft fairs and would drag your mom around those shows for hours! You might have some of the things I bought around your house. Ask Mom about them.

I traveled a lot, sometimes with your mom, sometimes on my own. I flew in hot air balloons, rode on motorcycles, paddled canoes, and visited many far away countries filled with very different people. I would have loved to travel with you.

But no matter how important these passions and my work were to me, they are NOT what life’s about. Life is about who you are, how you treat others, and the relationships you nurture along the way. We all want the same things in life — to be loved and heard. You don’t always have to agree with those around you, but you have to communicate understanding and respect.

Your mom and I used to butt heads all the time. If she thought I did something wrong, she used to snap at me and slam doors. I spent a lot of time teaching her that even when she disagreed with my decisions, she needed to respect them. Lexi, save this letter and reread it when you’re a teenager. Try to always remember that your mom has your best interests at heart.

Know that I love you and that you make me very proud. And, one last thing. You are a very talented artist. But please know you didn’t inherit those capabilities just from your grandfather. My mother, your great-grandma Henny, and Aunt Ronnie were artists too!

Love,

Grandma Lynn

P.S. Give your mom a hug from me. I miss her so much.
****
First, let me say how absurd I think this is. You don’t need a letter from me to let you know what was important to me or what lessons I would have taught you. If you want to know who your grandfather was, just look at your mother. Your mom is me.

Your mom is everything I was…for good and bad. When your mom explodes in anger, it comes from me. When she gushes with pride, I was never able to hide my emotions either. Everyone in my life – family, friends, clients — knew where I stood and exactly what I thought. I was never a diplomat, I admit. There’s an old saying, “Let the chips fall where they may,” and I think that’s as close to a motto as I had. But the people in my life were glad for it because they didn’t have to wonder if I was telling the truth. If they were weak or unsure they usually didn’t like me much. And that was fine with me. I preferred to be around people I respected.

Don’t worry about being liked, Jake. You can’t control that. Worry about being true to yourself. That’s hard enough. That, and maybe, try not to be a schmuck.

I would really have enjoyed getting to know you. I always dreamed of playing catch with you and taking you to some of my favorite places like Yankee Stadium. Like you, I loved the Yankees. Your uncle Richie and I went to a lot of games growing up. I loved Joe DiMaggio and Yogi Berra – but my favorite player was somebody you’ve probably never heard of. His name was Tommy “Old Reliable” Henrich. He wasn’t a great player, and he didn’t hit a lot of home runs, but he was a “clutch” hitter who always seemed to get the hit the Yankees needed to either start a rally or to win the game. The Brooklyn Dodgers were the enemy and your great-grandpa Willie used to joke that you needed a passport to get to Brooklyn. I would have also loved going to a Giants football game with you. Just being together would have been fun.

I always liked kids (not babies so much) as soon as they were old enough to have a conversation. I liked playing games — like chess and backgammon — but I should warn you, once you got the hang of a game, I would not have held back to give you a better chance of winning. I’d respect you enough to know that you’d probably try harder to beat me if you knew it was for real. You might be a little upset with me at first, but you’d learn, and you’d get better. And you know what? No one would have been prouder when you finally beat me, than me!

One of the scariest, and ultimately most rewarding, moments in my life came when I decided that I had the power to make a difference in the world. When your mom was 11 years old, I wrote a letter to fellow architects inviting them to join me in doing something to decrease the chances of nuclear war, which seemed like a very real possibility at the time. It was really hard for me to send that letter. Back then, businesses weren’t really involved in things like that and I didn’t know how my clients would react. Maybe I’d lose them all. Instead, I only lost a few, and the ones who stood by me became even better friends and respected colleagues. It was because of that letter that we formed the organization Architects Designers and Planners for Social Responsibility.

Because of the risk I took, I was invited to become a Giraffe. The Giraffe Project, as it was known back then, honors people who “stick their neck out” for the common good. Nothing is more thrilling than to exceed your own expectations. I felt I really made a difference to the planet.

There’s one more lesson I want to make sure you learn. It’s something I told your mom when I got sick. I believe I created my own cancer. I spent too much of my life being angry. Slow waiters. Long lines. Incompetence. Neediness. All of it. It all made me angry. It wasn’t until your cousin Dexter was born that I began to calm down. Becoming a grandfather allowed me to appreciate my family more and I began to find peace. I was inching toward becoming a little gentler, a little kinder, a bit more flexible. I think I’d still be alive if I achieved this kind of balance earlier.

I love you, Jake, and don’t ever be afraid to stick your neck out like a giraffe. I hope you make choices in your life that will lead you to contributing to this world.

Love,

Grandpa Sidney