Lesson 1, Part #2

Dear Florrie,

By the time you get this, I will already be home from this place they call a hospital.

You know me better than anyone on this earth. You know me even better than I know myself most of the time. I know once I get home so many of these things that go through my mind I'll never share. I've had nothing but time since I was brought to this place three months ago.

It's is hard for me to say the things I feel inside so many times. I know you already know this about me, but I want to say some of those things now in this letter.

I know you let the biscuits stay in the oven longer than necessary to almost scorch them for the past thirty years because you think I like them that way. I should have told you many years ago I really like them the way everyone else does, not almost burned. I know. I know. That's my fault for telling you so many years ago before we ever married that was just the way I liked them when you scorched them that day.

I love the way you giggle when you are happy. Your eyes dance and sparkle. I have always been quiet. I listen; I care; I just don't say much. I love it because you understand my grin is like your giggle. You always know when I am happy and when I am sad. I love the way you reach across and lay your hand on top of mine when I need to feel your touch most. What I would have given for that touch or the sound of your voice some days here. I know you couldn't be here with this being a mental hospital and all, but I think I would have gotten well so much faster if I could have just felt your touch.

This has been very hard on me, being away from home and you. I think the shock treatments were the worst. That part was torture. I know it had to be done. I know my mind was really messed up. You know I'd never have even thought of trying to hurt anybody and certainly not my own grandson if something hadn't happened to me. I've prayed about that and God knows I wasn't in my own mind either.
That's the only way I can stand it. You know I still can't remember it though. All I remember is when I came to myself being in a straight jacket in an ambulance. Lots of things are fuzzy from then on.

Well, I really didn't mean to say all that and I don't want to ever remember. I just want to tell you thank you for giving me our three girls and doing such a good job of raising them. I want to say nobody else could ever have helped me get over my childhood the way you did. I want you to know what happened to me didn't have anything to do with you and there is nothing you could have done that would have helped it.

I want you to know I love you more than words can say and you know I'm not good at that kind of stuff in person. That's why I'm writing this letter, so I won't back out of saying it even if it's on paper.

Florrie, I love you.

E.J.