92. Enough Said
Mom and Marchrie came for a visit yesterday. It was the first time I’d seen them since my latest blog, so there was some uncertainty on their part about how I’d be. This is how I was and what I told them.
“I had a tough week, but I’m back on track. The Conversation set me back because it was so reminiscent of hearing the death-sentence from Dr. Wonderful. It hit a raw nerve and unleashed all of the uncertainty and fear that pushed for control way back then.
“I’ve been living for eight months knowing that I am going to die. The important word in that sentence is I’ve been living. I’ve been writing, and spending time with friends and family, and setting priorities and meeting them, exploring my relationship with God, and deepening my relationship with Tim and the girls, and I’ve been doing nice things for Hadley to help her grieve and keep my place in her heart. In many ways, I’ve lived a richer life in these eight months than I have for many years.
“I’ve had some hard physical and emotional times during these past months, but I handled them.”
As I said earlier, The Conversation sent me back to where
I was all those months ago — it did not set me back —
at least not long term.
And then.
On the last two visits with my mother and sister, I opened the floor for whatever questions they had. Both said they felt they knew everything from conversations we’ve had, or by reading my blogs. Mom said the blogs were particularly helpful for her because she could read them several times. Marjorie did what she normally does, she praised me for having the strength to put this journey to paper.
Speaking of putting things to paper.
The letters I received from my writing challenge, the ones currently being held in a bulging ziplock storage bag are so very appreciated. During my down days last week, I spent time with all of you. I learned a little about each individual writer and I learned some universal things, too:
People miss sitting down and writing a letter.
People miss getting a letter or note card in the mail.
People wish they had letters from those who passed.
People find comfort seeing a loved one’s script.
People have stories to tell.
People want to tell their stories.
Nobody likes their penmanship!
You’ll see.
I have been posting the letters with my blogs in the order they arrived, but I decided to pull them randomly and see what happens. And since I’m a lover of mysteries, I removed the introductory line so the ‘reveal’ of the writer’s identity becomes part of the reading experience. So …
# 4. This letter came on notepaper and it read:
Dear Sheryll,
I’m the creator and maker of your “Dancing on the Beach” sea glass artwork. Your sister Denise had asked me to make that for you. She seems like such a delightful and caring person. I couldn’t turn her down. She later sent me your writings to read.
I must admit I was quite emotional while reading your blog. It really touched me and I felt that I wanted to write to you. I hope many people are writing to help fill a void in your long days. I’m a retired Special Education consultant and I guess I’m always trying to do something for those in need.
None of us are ever guaranteed another day and I try to enjoy each day to the best of my ability. You sound like you’re surrounded with many loved ones. In that respect you are so fortunate!!! Your family is also lucky to have such a loving and talented person in their lives. How wonderful for them that your writings will always keep you close in their memories and in their hearts. I wish I had writings from my loved ones who have passed.
I feel fortunate that your sister came upon my sea glass artwork on the York Beach site and that I got to know of you through my retirement “Hobby.”
I will keep you in my prayers along with your family. I hope you will find some joyful moments each day. I wish you peace and calm during your difficult times.
Very Sincerely, Susan
P.S. Picturing you and your husband dancing on the beach is heartwarming. I hope you will be able to do that again!
Broken bottles, rough edged trash,
ocean treasures, smoothed at last.
Pieced together by steady hand,
so two who love danced upon the sand.
Thank you, Susan Ladeau
# 5. This letter came on notepaper tucked inside a card and it read:
Dearest Sheryll,
Pardon my handwriting, between my actual handwriting and arthritis, it’s gotten worse. I’ll do my best. Larry got hurt at work and banged his shoulder, but it all looks like it’s healing up well. No surgery, starting PT.
I love the pic Hannah posted of you and Timmy - so beautiful.
We see a lot of the O’Briens at Breens. They seem to be a large caring family. Your mom and Marjorie also. So many blessings around. I’m quite jealous of families like that, but my husband and son are wonderful, so no complaints!
My heart breaks for you. I really hope your time will be beautiful and pain free.
I still haven’t tried an apricot danish from Culpeppers. I’m going to send Larry there Sunday! We have two cookouts this weekend. I feel like I’m getting back to somewhat normal again. Looking forward to seeing my college friends on Sunday.
Hopefully we’ll hit the beach soon. I’m sorry you can’t go to Wells. I crave the ocean. It was interesting to read that others do also. We have a cruise booked for the end of October, looking forward to that, for sure.
My Timothy is doing well. He’s living at my mom’s house for now. House sitting. He’s a good guy, you’d like him. Hardworking, funny, smart and absolutely adorable. He’s 25 now (yikes!) dating an older woman with 2 kids!! I really like her. She seems good for him and he for her - took me a bit to get used to it. I met one of her daughters and she’s adorable! They’ve been seeing each other over a year now, but were friends for a few years before that.
See? My handwriting gets worse as I go. Haha.
I’ll be downloading your books - I haven’t read them - but will, promise.
Well, my hand is achy now. I hope you get many letters - much more exciting than mine!
I wish you peace and love and no pain at all (my wish). Thanks for the blogs, you really are very talented. If you need anything - don’t hesitate - we’re close by.
With love, Kathy
Apricot danish, cookouts, and cruises,
the simple things in life.
Sharing them with family and friends,
Priceless.
Thank you Kathy Lavallee Budgell
# 6. This letter came on notepaper and it read:
Dear Sheryll,
Happy 1st day of summer from sunny Florida! I write this with such mixed feelings. But you want to know a little about your reader’s lives.
I was born in St. Paul, MN and I have moved 47 times since then. I went to 12 schools by the time I was 16 and we moved from Havre de Grace,
Maryland to Slidell, LA - right across Lake Pontchartrain from New Orleans. That’s why after moving to New Jersey from California with Jessica’s father I vowed to stay in one town so Jessica would be able to build lifelong friendships. It has been great watching them all grow up! I was always the new kid and I didn’t want that for her.
Only after she was grown and graduated from college did we decide to move to Florida for a job opportunity. Sometimes I feel pretty bad leaving her, even still. Sometimes she needs her mom and I am over 1,000 miles away. We are driving up there in August. It will be so great to see her and my grandson Brady!
I believe this will be our permanent house - on a little lake with lots of wildlife, which we love! We love sitting out on the screened porch (or lanai) watching lightning, clouds, and rain. When it’s not storming we enjoy watching the alligators, turtles, water birds, deer, etc. from the safety of the lanai.
I will sure miss you, Sheryll! I think we could have become great friends. I hope you can read my chicken scratch.
Lots of love being sent your way, Linda Christina
To the mother who gave birth to a Guru,
who holds a special place in my heart.
Thank you for sharing your daughter with me.
Linda Christina
# 7. This note came on a postcard from ‘our’ hotel in Wells Maine.
I thought you’d enjoy getting this postcard. It’s a very crisp day here, almost like fall. But as you know … any day is a good day at the beach! I hope you can close your eyes after looking at the picture on the front and envision your time here. Xo
If I have trouble envisioning it,
I’ll look at one of the beach videos you’ve sent.
Perhaps the one when you took me for a walk on Wells Beach.
Thank you Joyce McTigue
#8. This letter came on three hole notepaper and it read:
Sheryll,
I read your recent blog about the letters you have from relatives written so long ago. I realized how much I miss receiving handwritten notes, cards and letters. I wish I had love letters my parents wrote to each other. I do have some handwritten recipes from my Mom that I cherish. I also have birthday cards from my Dad. He took over the task of buying cards for everyone in the family once Mom died. He’d drive to Putnams card store in Webster Sq. and choose the sappiest cards. He would often ask me to sign and address them for him. He disliked his handwriting. He actually had nice penmanship. I think the nuns at Blessed Sacrament school scarred him. He never thought his handwriting was good enough.
I thought about other handwritten items I saved over the years. I got married in 1975. Actually, your husband Tim attended my wedding. He was Janice Harvey’s plus one. Ask him if he remembers. I still have the response cards from my wedding. I love seeing the cursive penmanship which has all but disappeared. One of my favorite responses is from my grandmother’s sister Aunt Mae. She said she would be attending alone unless she could find five or six handsome men to accompany her. Mae was what we called “a character”.
The year before I married my high school boyfriend he took a long trip to Texas with a friend of his. He told me he’d write to me every day. I received a couple letters then zip, no more. I wasn’t sure what happened. He addressed the letters I got to Paula “Chicken Legs” Hackett, 10 Englewood Ave, Worcester, Mass. Some people have romantic names for their loved ones. I got Chicken Legs. Well, I did have very skinny legs! One afternoon I was sitting in my kitchen when my grandfather came in the house. My grandparents lived next door at 12 Englewood. My Aunt, Uncle and cousins were on the other side of us at #8. We were the Hackett Compound, like the Kennedys without the wealth. My grandfather was a very quiet man. I don’t remember him saying much except asking us kids to buy his cigars at the Columbus Park Spa. Imagine that kids would buy cigars and cigarettes for their parents, no problem. Mary and Scary Charlotte knew which brands your family members smoked. Anyway, on that summer afternoon my grandfather walked in and handed me a stack of letters addressed to Chicken Legs Hackett. With all the Hackett houses the mailman mistakenly delivered my letters to my grandparents’ house. I was so embarrassed, but he just gave me the sweetest smile and turned and walked back to his house. I still have those letters.
Paula “Chicken Legs” Hackett O’Connor
A cherished recipe that holds a mother’s script.
Sappy cards chosen by a dad who inherited a family job.
A wink and a smile from a knowing grandfather.
A high school romance that stood the test of time.
Memories unleashed.
Thank you Paula Hackett O’Connor
# 9. This letter came on notepaper and it read:
Hello Sheryll,
I read your blog today and was happy for the invitation to write you. As the old saying goes, be careful of what you ask for because you might get it.
I was born in 1947, the son of a WWII veteran and beautiful woman that would die 19 years later of Stage 4 metastatic breast cancer. In her short life my mother, C’dele had four children and I am the oldest.
Most of my first five years were spent at my grandparents house just a block away while my mother and father both worked. So I was raised in the home where my father grew up with his big brother Billy. My dad was a Marine and the fire breather of the family, the one my grandmother worried about. Instead it was her 6’6” oldest that was killed 2-26-1944. I grew up in that house surrounded by memories of Uncle Billy.
I have been an avid reader since I was in the third grade. I read mostly WWII history, specifically Pacific Theater where my father fought. He would never talk about it, so I assume that is the reason. My book, The Special, is about Billy and he was killed in the Atlantic Theater over the Bay of Biscay. Go figure.
I became fascinated by Sheryll O’Brien listening to Nancy talk about your writing and the fantastic pace with which you produced your work. When the bad news arrived I was crushed, but what did Sheryll do, she started on her fantastic blog. You had all the incredible idea to share your journey with others, thousands, maybe millions of others. You did not forget those closest to you. Hadley had “Be” and another home run was hit.
I know there is more to come. I want you to know everything about you and your story has impressed me. Your courage, your discipline, your focus, and your will. Those impressions are part of me now. They always will be a part of me. I know you have affected others, many others in the same way.
Thank you for what you have shared with me. You will never be forgotten. Jim - sorry for the handwriting. It gets worse as I get older.
To the man who wrote a “special” book for a special uncle.
To the man who proudly bears the Gold Star of sacrifice.
To the man who shares his life with a special shining star.
Thank you Jim Pendleton
# 10. This note came on a monogrammed note card with a printed Ralph Waldo Emerson writing included. They read:
Sheryll,
Thank you so much for the “amazing” books. I am honored and humbled by your generosity. Your “Be” is beautiful. I have read and reread it over and over. It is not only inspirational for children but for all of us, we need more kindness and less anger in our world today.
Sheryll, your legacy will continue to live on not only in the hearts of your family but in all of the patients and families that you will touch in the sharing of your own experience in your book, “Be Still”.
Thank you for taking your “precious” time here on earth to be an inspiration to all of us.
Sincerely, Kathy “McTigue” Gervais - Love and Prayers
“What is success? To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate the beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded!” — Ralph Waldo Emerson