Dear Dad,
October 14, 2024The tomatoes came in this year. Big ones, the way you liked. I didn't know what to do with all of them so I made sauce and cried the whole time, which felt right.
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— M.K.
Dear Mom,
March 3, 2025I got the job. I know you would have called everyone you know. You would have told the woman at the dry cleaner. You would have told Father Hennessy at Mass.
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— R.T.
Dear Dad,
January 19, 2026I keep finding your handwriting. On the inside cover of books. On a grocery list in a coat pocket. On a Post-it note stuck to the back of a photo I've had for years and never turned over.
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— S.L.
Dear Mama,
July 4, 2023It's been two years and I still don't know what to do with your clothes. They're in the back of the closet. They still smell like you a little. Maybe that's why.
— A.R.
Dear Dad,
November 28, 2024Happy Thanksgiving. We made the stuffing recipe from the index card in your handwriting. We argued about whether it was supposed to be sage or thyme. We looked it up. It was sage. You were right, as usual.
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— L.B.
Dear Mum,
February 14, 2025Valentine's Day. You always sent me a card even when I was 35. Even when I told you it was silly. I would give anything for a silly card right now.
— C.O.
Dear Papa,
August 9, 2025The grandchildren are getting big. Ellie said something the other day that sounded exactly like something you would say. I almost told her that. I didn't, because I didn't want to cry in front of the kids.
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— D.N.
Dear Mom,
December 25, 2024Christmas without you is just different. Not terrible. Just different. The tree looks the same. The food is mostly the same. But the room has a different shape now.
— J.W.
Every letter here was written by someone who loved someone.