Letter

I tried to write a letter to my parents, almost immediately after hearing the 'news' on Sunday. I began... but I am not sure how to finish it. For once, perhaps, I am lost for words, and not sure what to write.

I wanted to write to them, to console them, to tell them that things will be alright. But somehow I feel like if I do that, I am sort of lying through my writing, and that is the worst kind of writing.

I want to write to them, to tell them that they should not be afraid, to somehow make up for me not being able to stand by their side as they undergo the chemo therapy... but no words, not even all the metaphors, similes and flowery language that I can splash across the page can ever compensate for the touch of a hand when you are afraid and needing to be held.

I want to write to them, to tell them about my life, and how great it is going, despite the ups and downs, so that they will not worry and have to think about whether I am eating well or dressed warm enough. But somehow my letters in the past used to make them cry, because they are that powerful and filled with emotions. And the last thing I want to make them do is cry.

So I am facing a half-written, or perhaps half-finished however you look at it, letter.

A letter that is missing and longing for the other half.