Last night, I was trying to find something to watch on television and I noticed that “P. S. I Love You” was on. I have seen it before and actually have the DVD but I could never watch it again so I instead opted for Forensic Files.
For those of you who haven’t seen it, it’s about a young couple named Holly and Jerry.
They weren’t lucky enough to have the fairy tale ending of “happily ever after” because Jerry died of a brain tumor, which devastated Holly.
She was so grief-stricken, she could barely function but Jerry had made arrangements for a series of letters from him to come in the mail. Those letters literally gave Holly a reason to get up in the morning and start living again.
Unbeknownst to Holly, her mother had been complicit in helping Jerry. She helped him complete his plans, which included everything from luncheons to a return trip to his birthplace in Ireland, where they met. It was almost as if Jerry had come back to life.
Toward the end of the movie, Holly and her mother were standing on a bridge when her mother took an envelope out of her pocket and handed it to her. She said “it’s the last one.”
I remember pausing the movie when she said that. The finality of that statement suddenly made his death real again. There would be no more letters. It was the last one.
Had I ever known that kind of love, I know that when I heard those words, it would have ripped my heart out.
I knew my children had seen the movie. I told Loser about it, trying not to be mushy or comparative so as not to make him growl at me and make me feel like a sentimental idiot.
My question to Loser and my children was this. “Would you have opened the letter?”
All five of them said “yes.”
When they asked me, I said “no. I would have never opened that letter.”
When they asked why, I said “because if I didn’t open it, there would always be another letter.”
I would have kept it beside my bed. Every morning when I woke up, it would be there. There would always be “another letter.”
I wouldn’t have wanted to know what was in that last letter. I wouldn’t have wanted to know that it was probably going to say goodbye. For me, when you’re leaving or have left somebody, goodbye is final. Goodbye is forever.
Loser refused to say goodbye to me. He knew what it meant and he didn’t want it to be forever.
Goodbye was the last word I ever said to him.
My question is this.
Would you open a letter from a loved one…if you knew that it was the last letter that you would ever get?