Dear Whoever…, #61

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Dear Whoever,                                                                                        2.25.2012.


                      Today was Dylan’s birthday party. It was boring but okay. Soccer tryouts are approaching. I should be eating healthier. I have had a sore throat for atleast a week and I really hope it goes away. Mom’s been asking what I want to do for my birthday. I almost wanted to cry. It’s 2 days away, a little late to plan anything and even if I did I have like 1 real true friend and 3 shallow school friends. 1 real friend-in the-making. I saw this girl at school passing out her invitations to her party and her birthday is March 3rd. March 3rd. More than 2 days away. It just made me sad that nobody gave a crap about mine. One of my friends at school was saying, “Guess who’s birthday’s coming up?” I hope they don’t plan anything but then I do. I thought about going to Knott’s with just me and Sarah, but I decided against it because of the cost and Spring Blowout in April. Then I thought Chuckie Cheese with just my friends. Then I decided against it because well I never really did like that place and once again you know of my shortage of friends. The next thought I had was dinner, let’s go to dinner. But then I think dinner would be awkward with all my family and then my few friends because at a table and waiting, you’re forced to have conversation. So then I thought hey dinner with the fam and something with my friends the next day or something. But once again. You can’t really have a party when you’d only invite one person. So I was thinking if Grandma and Grandpa are in the state, we’d take them out to dinner- they aren’t going to be in the state. I’m settling on taking Sarah, Kim, Mom, Mendy and her family(maybe), to dinner at Vince’s. That’s enough about my birthday though because after all it’s just another day.

                             Tomorrow we are going to Kris’ gravesite in the desert. You know the place. We’re going to repaint the white part and then darken up the lettering with black. Mom bought this little white picket fence stuff that we’re going to replace the fencing that blew away. We bought some fake flowers and zipties. Mom’s gonna even leave your memorial card there. And we made cupcakes because you know he was Krissy Cupcake to everyone. I’ll probably cry tomorrow. It’s weird how I can say that without shame like I couldn’t before. Apparently I cry enough now that I’m used to it. I just opened a birthday card from Uncle C and Aunt C. It was really nice. They’ve never done anything like that before. It kinda makes me wonder, did they send me that just cause well you’re gone? I’d like to think they didn’t. But in all reality, I think it’s because of you. That being said, thanks Dad. Well I’ll be sure to write you tomorrow and tell you how it went. I love you ya know?                                                                                            -Forever and always with love, eshy,

Dear Whoever…, #60

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Dear Whoever Likes To Read My Letters,                                                                                                                             2.24.2012.

“A person who can write a long letter with ease, cannot write ill.” -Jane Austen

“A Train was born without any effort – if was like writing a letter to a friend.” -Billy Strayhorn

“Even when I have to write a simple letter I’m scared stiff as if faced with looming seasickness.” -Gustav Klimt

“After the writer’s death, reading his journal is like receiving a long letter.” -Jean Cocteau

                                   Ya know what I think? I think so many things but here’s what on my mind this moment. I think that funerals are for the family and not for the person who’s being buried. I think that whoever is messed up enough to keep a dying person alive on a machine for the rest of their life, is selfish. I think that a dead man’s last wishes should be honored. I can give you three reasons of proof for each one of these thoughts.

I think…

  • funerals are for the family and friends and not for the person who’s being buried.
  1.  They give the family and friends closure.
  2.  The person being buried is already gone.
  3. There’s always a party. You think dead people party much? I do but not on earth.
  •  that whoever is messed up enough to keep a dying person alive on a machine for the rest of their life is selfish.
  1.   The dying person isn’t really living if he has to stay hospitalized on a machine to live.
  2.  The dying person is probably in a lot of pain, with or without meds, even on the machine, and if the family is just keeping the person around because they can’t part with him, is selfish. Because they’re making said person live in pain just so they can stay content and not embrace the inevitable change death brings.
  3. The people see the pain that the person is in and choose to let them suffer.
  • a dead (wo)man’s last wishes should be honored.
  1. He’s gonna die. He ain’t gonna keep bugging you for stuff after (s)he’s finally gone.
  2. It’s honor. You’re honoring the person’s life by carrying out the last wants of them.
  3. If not to honor them it’s a way to carry them on in the surviving people’s lives. They, themselves cannot go on, but their wishes can.

I don’t really know why I wanted to talk about that today but that’s just what I ended up with. So onto my other letter.


Dear Dad,                                                                                                                                                                  2.24.’12.

          How’ve you been? Hopefully better than me. I finished that writing thing and entered it. A lot of people liked it. And my teacher even read it to Hannah’s seventh grade class. I helped a girl find God today, Daddy. It was surreal. I held Hannah too, after revival was over, I didn’t give a rat’s a** about the no touching rule. That was me. She was crying because Luke’s dad died. You know that. That happened before you were gone. But she was crying also because Luke’s uncle now has the same thing and the chemo treatment to kill it, affects his kidneys and his kidneys suck off the bat. I learned last year in science that kidneys filter your blood. Uncle G has bad kidney’s too right? And that’s why Cousin’s girlfriend gave up one of hers right? I want to do something like that for someone today. Maybe a kidney, maybe a lung, most definitely blood though. As soon as I get over my fear of needles and looking at my own blood being drawn out of me.

         I hope I made you smile. I’m sorry I haven’t written you in a couple days. I’ve been busy and I’m gonna be even busier the next few days. My birthday’s in 3-4ish days, can you believe that? I remember you asking me how old I was every time my birthday rolled around and before I could answer you’d ask 3? Or 4? No older than 5 surely. And you’d smile. Before I always thought you were being mean but now I know that you were definitely not trying to flatter me. What 7yr old wants to be younger? Little kids look forward to being older. So if it wasn’t flattery, what was it? I know now. It’s that I’d always be your little girl no matter how old I got.  For that makes me smile a small somewhat sad smile. I love you, Dad. I do. I always will. That will never change. I love your little code messages like that one that nobody ever got. That I never got. Till now.

        Soccer tryouts weren’t this week. But they’re supposed to be next Monday and Tuesday. On my birthday. I’m excited. I’m a little nervous though. You’d never guess I was either though by the blank stare on my face right now. Tomorrow we’re going to Dylan’s birthday party, I think. And then I believe on Sunday, we’re going to visit’s Kris’ memorial. I cry just thinking about it. Because the last time I was there I was with you. You and I paused the longest. Nobody understood but me and you. We were in sync in that way. The last place I was even remotely similar to that of Kris’ memorial was when you took me shooting. Remember that? I do. You were always telling me survival tips. Remember how we got stuck in the sand in your brand new truck? I do. Danny helped us out, remember? Then we drove a little further and started shooting again this time with Danny. I remember you guys talking when you thought I couldn’t hear, saying how good an aim I have and how women have a thing for the automatic. I smiled and leisurely squeezed off more rounds. Danny has offered to take us shooting. I want Sister and Mom to learn how to shoot but then I want to be selfish. I want to be selfish and just keep our shooting as a you and I thing, a special thing just between you and me. However, I do want them to be able to protect themselves.

            Another thing that was between me and you is the wood. I want to get back to splitting and if possible I want to keep the business going. However, I split the wood. Uncle A and Uncle B see no reason to keep the splitter or conveyor around and there goes even more of you that I can still use. So deciding to wait on splitting, I wandered around the shop. I do that sometimes now. I found that log. The one we made those coasters out of? I want to make those and sell or give them away. Maybe even make a trademark stamp and make it official. Do you know what type of tree that log was off of? Do you remember what saw you used to cut it with? I don’t. This is why I need you here. To teach me the things you didn’t get to teach me yet, to show me how to do the things you always just did for me. To watch wrestling with me, to watch Bonanza with me. To kick or toss a ball around with me. To listen to my newest paragraph of my story. To laugh at my little scream of terror as my chickens came towards me. To fence in the newest hole in the dog pen. To keep the peace between me and Sister and me and Mom. And more importantly, ask me what’s wrong when nobody else knew I was upset. That’s what i miss about you. How nobody else understood me but you did. And now I don’t have you. Now nobody gets it. Now I’m alone. There’s nobody sitting out there with me in the shop no more. I’m not keeping anybody company anymore. I miss you.                           -Love you forever and always, eshy

Psssst, Dad. P.S. The world is full of 747’s. I think I got a chuckle out of you. 

Well thanks for tuning in and reading today’s letter, folks. Come back again soon.     -The Determined, eshy,

Dear Whoever…, #58

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Dear Whoever Has Heard Me Talking About My Current Writing,                                2.20.’12.

“Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.”     -Benjamin Franklin
“If you would not be forgotten as soon as you are dead, either write something worth reading or do things worth writing.”    -Benjamin Franklin 
       See what I did there? I bet not. It wasn’t intentional not at first but then it was. What I did was I was searching for quotes like normal and I found the first one and I absolutely loved it. Then I quoted it on here and was like woah today’s President’s Day…….weird. Then I found the second and I was like I’ll just leave those two in honor of President’s Day. Anywho, I found that intresting enough to share with you guys.
        The Addressee for today’s letter on the other hand is purely intentional because I have been talking non-stop about this thing. So for those of you that have blessed(or cursed, depending on how you look at it) enough to have read it or have been asked to critique it or double check it, it’s almost over! It’s done just tomorrow by 9:15am I promise. I’m kinda glad it’s over too, to be honest. I think I’ve made myself tired of it. But for me it’s still not done because I need to just tweak it and ya know double it’s wordcount. Which is gonna take me like all night but for you it’s done. Don’t worry. For those of you who are reading this and think wth is she talking about, you shoulda skipped this paragraph. Moving on.
Dear Dad,                                                       2.20.’12.
       Today was David and Donna’s birthday. Now that I tell you that I’m kinda sad I didn’t call Donna. I know how close you two were. I’ll call her tomorrow after school. I wanna also apologize about attacking you a little yesterday, it’s not right to attack a dead man. Not in my mind it isn’t. But I am still kinda let down, I ain’t gonna lie. Today’s also Monday. I got the day off from school cause it’s a ‘holiday’. Mom’s doing well. She’s sitting next to me as I write. She’s been having to do a lot of paperwork and she’s really stressed. But she’s okay. She’s doing a lot better than I thought she would. Sooooo. Um, Dad. Ya know the new renters? ((Just calm down and give me a sec to spit it out)) Well one of them has a grandson. ((Yeah, yeah. I’m much too young. Got it.)) But he’s really sweet and an outright gentleman. You should have heard all the nice things he said about our house. It made me proud. And well it could’ve even made you smile. *smiles* I like him. I do. And I think he’d be okay meeting you if you were still here. I’d want you to meet him. He’s a good guy though I swear. And besides we aren’t going out yet. He walked Rocky to the chicken pen for me and I showed him my turtles and my chickens. Not the most romantic alright? Don’t worry about me. I’ll always be your girl. And I’m always good no matter what you think. I know my morals and how you’d want me to conduct myself. On another less awkward subject, I really miss you. Everything I see stings because it’s bittersweet. I think of all the memories with you but then I am reminded how you aren’t here to make more. I want to finish splitting that wood and I’d like to take over the buiseness but Uncle A & Uncle B are pushing to sell the splitter and the conveyor and even the wood! Bastards!, no? Sorry, they are your brothers but still. They took your truck to CarMax today. Uncle B is making up all this stuff you supposably told him to do. I wish you were here to set ’em straight. They won’t listen to me I’m just a kid. ((Yes, I am a kid. I know that.)) But my opinion is still rational and should be listened to, right? I mean I guess I could just make myself heard but it’s not the same as when you did because if I started yelling Uncle F would throw a fit on my non ladylike manners. God, knows I don’t need that. Anywho I turn in my entry for that thing tomorrow. Wish me luck, Daddy. I should get some sleep. You too, if you even need it up there. Sweetdreams. Love you.       -eshy

Dear Whoever…, #57

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Dear Whoever,                           2.19.’12.


Dear Daddy,   2.19.12.

I’m sorry I’m bugging you again with another letter but you better get used to it. Plus I doubt you’re reading them. You couldn’t work the internet while on earth, how are you supposed to work it up there? Anywho, I’m crying. Why, you always asked? Well you of course. You and Mom. I’m hurt. I’m hit. My heart’s broke over and over again and I don’t know how much longer I can take it. I can’t believe you really did that. I’m talking about one specific thing particularly, I just don’t want to say it. I know you did it. I just never knew you took it that far. I always thought Mom was crazy, ’cause Daddy was a good man, an honest man. And you were. So how could you do this to Mom hm? Especially. Especially after Cindy did it to you? You knew how it felt and then you just turned around and did the same to Mom. What a jerk! You were always my superhero. I looked up to you. I wanted to be just like you. I smiled(still do) when someone points out how we act alike. But I will never do that to someone. Whether I’m not married or if I am. That’s horrible and I feel betrayed. I just can’t believe you!-

Dear Whoever…, #56

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Dear Whoever Finds This Post,                                                                                                          February 18th, 2012

“Fire is the origin of stone. By working the stone with heat, I am returning it to its source.” -Andy Goldsworthy

“I do not keep a diary. Never have. To write a diary every day is like returning to one’s own vomit.” -Enoch Powell

“I haven’t had the time to plan returning to the scene because I haven’t left it.” -Mick Jagger
       Congratulations! You’ve found this post. What that means exactly? Well I don’t quite know. Let’s see how this goes. Onto the quotes- I chose these three out of the results I got from typing in “quotes about returning”. I was searching for quotes about returning because well as you read in my last post, I am returning to my beloved eshysletters. Anywho, the first I found intresting just because *shrug* I found it intresting plus these will tie into my sub-letter today and I like how it’s about source and orgin. I like that because it means beginning in a way. The second quote, I chose because well I find it true and yet ironic because apparently I return to my own vomit, while not lately, I do indeed keep a journel. However the second quote has no relevence in this post other than I chose it. The third is the one that got to me. “I haven’t left it.” I haven’t left the scene yet, that’s why I haven’t planned to return it, cause I never left it. Sorry, it’s just fascinating to me because it’s important in my life that I haven’t left the scene yet. I apologize to you, readers, because my mind is foggy right now so I might repeat myself or draw slow circles around the same words.


Dear Daddy,                                    2.18.’12.

       How are you? I hope you are having the best time, you probably are. I look into the clouds sometimes and try to find you, I’ve never suceeded. I’m entering a writing competition did I tell you that? Starting on my dreams already. “I’ll make it to the moon if I have to crawl.”-Scar Tissue by R.H.C.P. That was Brother’s favorite song, ya know? I listen to it when I miss him or you. Well when I miss you I listen to Cowgirls Don’t Cry by Brooks and Dunn. My entry piece I’m entering is a bit like Alice In Wonderland. Uncles A & B are harrassing Mom and putting locks on everything. They want to sell everything and they piss me off. But what doesn’t piss me off right? Right. Sometimes I forget how much I’m like you. I walked out ya know? I walked out of the meeting with Uncles A& B, Mom and Sister. I walked out near the end. And then Uncle B had the nerve to call Mom saying he was concerned about me. I’m concerned about him, shoot. He doesn’t even seem phased by your death. At least I have a little emotion. Apparently I’m just emotional and therfore irrational, that’s what he says. How could you leave them to take care of us? I would have done a better job. They want to sell everything you had and put it in the trust. Well, I wore one of your shirts that day, and your pliers on my belt. The first thing I did after walking home was take them off and drop them at the door. Then I ran out to your shop to get away. Everything was locked so I couldn’t get in the house or the new shop. I didn’t really want to be in a building with the rage I had. I would’ve tore it apart. So instead I let the crisp chilly air bite my arms where my tanktop didn’t protect. I ended up laying on a rusted wire toolbox(or cage) playing Cowgirls Don’t Cry and crying my eyes out. I’m sure the neighbors think I’m a nut but why the hell should I care? I better keep on track though. I wasn’t going to make this letter about that day. No, instead I wanted to go back farther like a decade back almost. Back to the beginning. Well as far back as I can remember. I’m taking this back to the scene that I haven’t quite left yet, my childhood. I had a good one albeit Brother passing. But in this memory I’m four, I’ sitting on your lap and my tracing your watch. I’m holding your hands while your strong arms are around me. I feel the cuts, I poke the scabs, I ask how you got them and you told me “Daddy goes to work. They’re nothing.”  I sit there still feeling your hands as you watch tv. The next day Brother is up early with you. So are Sister, Mom, and I. Mom tells me to say goodbye I think because you two are going off to work. I run up the couch and stand on it’s spine. Now I am tall enough to look Brother in the eyes “Don’t go. You’ll get hurt.”, that’s what I last said to him. He smiles at me and says “I’ll be fine. I love you.” and he leaves, he doesn’t come back. With you, Dad, we knew it was coming. Still it doesn’t make it any easier. If anything it’s worse because I remember you. With Brother, I was too young. Now I am older and it’s more painful. I know what has happened that I didn’t know back then. I remember being small enough to step into your boots and have them go up to my hips. I remember trying to walk in them and not being able to. Flash foward a little. Remember how you’d sit in that same spot on the couch? How that was YOUR spot and nobody elses? Remember how I’d hide from Mom? I’d run on the couch and jump behind you, only to have you lean back, somethering me with your back. And Mom would say “Have you seen, eshy?” and you’d say “Nope. Have you?” I remember when you wouldn’t come in from outside until it was just about dark. And when you did I always ran in the house ahead of you and tried to hide behind the bar so I could jump out and scare you. At that time I was hardly taller than your knees. I rarely ever did scare you. I remember when you let me keep Pepper when Mom said no way. And how you always let the dogs sleep in the house.  I remember when we built your shop. Sure, a lot of people contributed, but to me, it was mostly you and I. How about when you were doing something in your shop after you picked me and Sister up from school? And you’d say for me to come out and at least keep you company. So I’d go out and sit on the stool and swing my legs, watching you work while I rambled away. Or how in the truck after school you’d always ask “How was the office?”. I miss these times, Dad. But I thank you for them. I thank you for taking me to Nevada and letting me cook every night because you knew I learned hands-on. I thank you for letting me teach myself how to cook because Mom never does anymore. We eat out all the time. And I absolutely hate it. Remember when sometimes in 5th grade, I used to get out at noon from school on Wednesdays, and you’d sometimes take me out to eat. Or when you didn’t, how we’d go home and I’d go in the house and make you a “lunch” and you’d go outside. The lunch I made always consisted of a sandwhich, something healthy, a cookie, and maybe some chips. Anywho I bet my readers are sick of me rambling about a childhood nobody could understand except me, you, Sister, Brother 2, and Mom. So I’ll go but I’ll write you again tomorrow ‘kay? I love you. Be good. Stay out of trouble.   -Love, eshy


Sorry that was so long. Most of the time I have no idea where my posts are even going until they’re written and by then I’m too emotionally attached to delete any part of it. Even if it’s mega-long like this one. Well I ought to go do something with my day besides sit with the computer. Have an awesome day, guys.                                -eshy


Dear Whoever…, #55


Dear Whoever Still Reads My Blog After My Latest Vanishing Act,                                                                                    2/17/’12

“Eventually you will come to understand that love heals everything, and love is all there is.”  -Gary Zukav

“For your born writer, nothing is so healing as the realization that he has come upon the right word.”  -Catherine Drinker Bowen

“Healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity.”  -Hippocrates

        I know I haven’t posted in what 2-3 months. I’ve been dealing with stuff you can’t even begin to imagine. I’m not healing yet. I’m just thinking of the idea and wondering how long it will be till I can get there and begin the healing process. Anywho, because of a suggestion from someone, I’ll be on a little more often I hope. It won’t be the same. Nothing ever is after a change. But I’ll have some semi-regular posts hopefully in there too. However to be more specific, the suggestion was to write letters to someone specifically, through my letters you’ll know who it is, or you’ll try to figure it out I suppose. They’ll be inside a regular post with their own sub-header. The person whom I am writing these to, doesn’t know and doesn’t probably care. I don’t really know what will be in them though. I guess that will depend on the day. I don’t care if you comment on them but understand these are more for me than for you. These are for me so that I might take a step(or a leap) towards healing. Without further ado.


Dear Dad,      2.17.12

       The birds will always sing. That’s what I thought today as the hospice counselor came and talked to us. I was staring at my bracelet, feeling the little bird over with my thumb. The birds will always sing in the morning, even after a storm. They’ll always have their songs. The birds are kinda like people I guess. But people don’t often realize the beauty of the morning, instead they grunt because they have to get up, when so many others don’t get up. I got up this morning to the counselor. I like him better than that female one I’ve been seeing. They’re giving me the option of switching to this one as my main shrink but you know how I am with change. That’s the problem actually, you knew me better than anybody else. Now you’re gone and that leaves me alone and therefore, misunderstood. I’d like to tell you that people aren’t forgetting you already, but they are. Uncle A and Uncle B aren’t being the best with helping us. They stress us out a lot. We got the houses and shop rekeyed. Uncles A & B want to sell everything you owned without mine or Mom’s or Sister’s input. I think that’s a jerk move but they don’t care. I got my ingrown ripped out and that acid put in again, two weeks after you left. Soccer tryouts are next week ya know? I remember when I was nervous about volleyball tryouts and when I told you I had made the team all you said was “I figured you would”. I’m nervous but I don’t think that many good people are trying out. There isn’t that many returners. I’ll have to take off your bracelet, I know you understand. I’ve been sleeping on your side of Mom’s bed. It’s weird. I wish I had some of your clothes that smell like you but you didn’t wear any regular clothes the last few months. I wish I still had you. I wish I could go back and be little again. I wish you could catch me one more time. I wish you could hold me tight. I wish your breath was on my neck at night. I wish you were here watching a race or Bonanza. I wish you didn’t have to go through the pain that you did. I wish that you and Brother are together again finally. I wish I didn’t have to be responsible for the stuff that I am now. But if wishes were fishes even beggars would eat. The house is quiet. Too quiet. Sister went to a basketball game. Mom’s outside. Brother went to your service ya know? I think he’s playing mind games. I haven’t worked on your book that I promised you. I’m entering a writing contest though. We’re gonna go visit the cross soon probably on Brother’s birthday or mine. I wish you were here to tease me about my age too. I’ma go to the park now, ‘kay? To practice for soccer since I didn’t keep up that running program I said I was gonna do. Hope you’re okay and loving the life you have now. Hope you’re healed and happy. I’m gonna make you proud and smile okay? I’ma try my best. I love you forever. -Love, eshy,


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