Letter to the Dead

I was searmailboxching through my stack of notebooks today, looking for some information I needed, when I came across the last letter I wrote to Jeff, my deceased life mate/soul mate. I used to write him as a way of feeling connected to him, but I haven’t done so in a over a year. The letter, dated October 13, 2013, was written three years and seven months after his death. I don’t remember the dream, don’t even remember writing the letter, but here it is:

Dear Jeff,

I dreamt about you last night. You came into my room, stood at the foot of the bed and touched my blanket-covered feet, then climbed onto the bed, on top of the covers, and cuddled up to me. You were in your underwear, and in the dream, I knew you’d come from where you were sleeping, though I had the impression you’d been with someone, as if you had another life. You said, “I miss you.”

I woke and teared up a bit, but no emotional storm, just an acknowledgment that I missed you too.

Was that really you? Some people would say so, but I still don’t know the truth of (or have any belief in) what comes after. I’ll know soon enough, I suppose. As long as my remaining years seem, I know the truth — they are but a wisp of time. For a long time, I was afraid of growing old alone and dying alone. I know we all die alone; I guess the fear was of being feeble alone, but I’ve chosen to believe that if my end years were going to be difficult, you wouldn’t have left me.

I’m trying to embrace life in a way I never did before — to see it as the gift everyone says it is. I was angry at you recently for leaving me here stuck between my father and my brother as I’d always been when I was young, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ve found a new love (dancing) and I’m walking with a group when I can, which is helping me stay centered. I could leave here, of course, and run away from the men who are bedeviling me, but I’d also be leaving these activities and my new friends, which adds an element of irony to the situation.

What about you? What are you doing? How are you doing? I wish we could talk, catch up, tell our current truths, but maybe someday . . .

Will you still like me? Will you be waiting for me?

Adios, compadre. I love you.


Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.


5 Responses to “Letter to the Dead”

  1. Wanda Says:

    A sweet letter, no matter when it was written. It shows beautifully how you felt then and probably feel today. You have come such a long way in your journey. The best journeys don’t always take us to far away places, often they are taken while sitting in our room or at our desk. You are so very lucky to have had him in your life as was he. Your letter made me smile. Hope you’re dancing your truth for all the world to see.


    • Pat Bertram Says:

      You’re so right about the best journey’s taking place in place. Grief was such a journey. Dancing is such a journey. I’m sure there will be others as well as the long distance kind. But what do I know — life has a way of doing with us what it wishes.

  2. cicy rosado Says:

    that was a neat letter I liked it I have often wondered if we meet people in our dreams are they real or just dreams or what our
    subconscious (did I spell that right?) wants or wishes? I have some doosy’s of a dream Wow! LOL

  3. Paula Kaye Says:

    I am writing letters to my recently deceased as well….very helpful with the grieving process

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