Okay now that I managed to make it to R&R.....

I have seen this elsewhere and think it could be fun......Feel free to add on any letter you wish you could send to someone lol.

Dear Mr. Low Life Ticket Scalper,

I hope that selling those floor tickets to see Hannah Montana that just went on sale today at 12:00 noon for $1,500 on Ebay brings you joy to your life.

Give me a fucking break. Instead of capitalizing on something that kids like, why don't you find another hobby, like maybe sword swallowing, and let those people who really want the tickets for their children get them at face value. It really just frustrates me to no end that schmucks like you can get tickets. I understand there are not enough tickets for those who may want them, but there are some kids that won't get to go that maybe could have, if the low life scum suckers like you that jack up prices were not around. You are a piece of shit and I hope you get hit by a truck.

Sincerely,

Pissed off Mom, thankful to have gotten her daughter tickets, but would have also liked to be able to take her niece

Wow, Elena. Just wow. Those of us who have never suffered any oppression like to think we understand, but we really have no concept, do we?

Wow, Elena. Just wow. Those of us who have never suffered any oppression like to think we understand, but we really have no concept, do we?

Thank you....it's hard to really understand unless you were there... it really is...

Dear Son,

Thank you for smooshing Daddy's deodorant into your hair instead of mine.

Love, MOM

Dear God,

I know people are blessed in different ways, but I hate that I had to be mentally wired as I am. I wish I didn't have to analyze everything. I hate that my mind goes in to overdrive and the only way it can be sedated is with some type of chemical. I hate that I am so anti-social. I hate that I eat and still feel empty. I hate that even after weight loss surgery, I have regained 25lbs and still struggling with eating issues. Out of all the addictions I could have been given, why food? I am still very greatful for all that I have been blessed with, but just wish that I didn't have the mental issues that I do...

Sincerely,

An over-analytical-binge-eating-weightloss-surgery failure

Dear unborn child of mine.

I can never express how sorry I am that I never gave you the chance to be born. I was only a child myself, and didn't fully understand that what I was doing would haunt me forever. As a Christian now, I know that God forgave me, but it's much harder to forgive myself. I hope that someday we will meet, and that I will be able to see how beautiful you are in heaven.

Love,

Your regretful mom

Oh travelgirl, (((((hugs)))))

Thanks. It felt good to write it, and get it off my chest. Very few people are aware of any of it. The ones who were aware of it have mostly forgotten.

Thanks, Babygrl for starting this thread! That was very cleansing.

Travelgrl...wow, just wow.....forgiving yourself is the hardest thing to do.

bert99: Thanks. It's a good point you make about the picture. I'll sleep on the thought of taking it down, though.

Elena M: Your post is incredibly touching. I'm sorry for all of the pain your family had to endure.

travelgirl, have you ever listened to the audio story "Tilly"? I know a lot of women who have gone through what you're going through and many of them have said it's very healing. It's a book by Frank Peretti but it can also be found on tape and I believe there's also a movie now. I listened to it about 15 years ago and it was extremely powerful.

Dear Dad,

I'm sorry that you can't look at yourself and see why my sister and I decided to look into your father's will after he passed away. I'm sorry that you said something to your sister that has made her believe that Sami and I had anything against her in this. I'm also sorry that you've decided that Sami had more to do with this than I did, and so decided that you wouldn't go to her wedding, but went to mine.

You have no idea the guilt you've caused me regarding all of this, but one thing I do not feel guilty about is looking into that will. In a long list of reasons, the most recent is that you stole money out of your daughter's bank account. She called me to ask me to look at her online statement and tell her where her money was going and I had to tell her that our father was stealing from her. You are a dishonest person, and your lie worse to yourself than anyone else, as you refuse to see your own true nature, and you refuse to understand that YOUR issues, and YOUR nature cause you to be alone, not anything that anyone else has done.

You're my father and I love you, but I don't trust you and I don't particularly like you all that much.

Your Oldest Daughter.

(thanks, it felt good to get that out too)

Elena, thanks for posting your letter written to Castro. It is always interesting to listen to a first-hand account of life in a country which is so different from one's own.

To tell you the truth I do have a little extra interest in Cuba. I used to be very close friends with a Latina who was a Communist and who, though originally from Uruguay, was very much involved with Cuba. She often accompanied groups of Canadian sympathisers down to Cuba for conferences where she would act as translator. To hear her talk, life under Castro was practically like living in the Garden of Eden. Of course I have read the occasional long article in the weekend newspapers, articles which paint a very different, and much grimmer picture. One of the things which this friend used to do was collect unused prescription medicines and other items of this nature to take down with her. She was in contact with a Cuban doctor. I always made a point of sending my unused prescription meds, etc to Cuba with her.

Americans may or may not know that Canada does have an official diplomatic relationship with Cuba. Cuba is now one of the cheap Caribbean holiday destinations for Canadians.

Thirty-one years ago, when Cuba had only first opened itself up to the notion of becoming a holiday destination for folks carrying hard currencies I, my then husband, and two couples who were friends of ours decided to spend a week there.

This sure was a peculiar experience. My own marriage was on the skids but we had already long ago made our plans and so we were stuck having to follow through with these. It was important that we took care not to disturb our friends with our own misery. And I had been receiving serious grief from my father who seemed to view Castro and Idi Amin as being one and the same.

So we flew from Toronto and landed in a very primitive tin-can kinda airport where we warmly welcomed and then were hussled onto an airconditioned bus which was to bring us to our destination. Once on the bus we were treated to the party line: we were given a lecture which provided us with information on all the successes performed under the Castro regime.

When we, the first generation of tourists, arrived in Cuba we did find ourselves warmly welcomed. The Cubans had prepared a splendid, if somewhat primitive, recreational compound for us. The beach was gorgeous, the food, served buffet-style, was generous, and the personnel who looked after us were warm and welcoming. We soon became aware, however, that we were living in a sequestered compound. It was pretty well impossible to go anywhere, and we did want to see things while we were there. Most notably we wanted to see Havana.

The six of us managed to pull this off - with great difficulty - by hitching a lift in to Havana with a local bus, one of those which has folks hanging from the doors and the windows. Once in Havana we found that we couldn't do anthing much apart from visit the Museum of the Revolution. We didn't have the right to be there, you see, and we didn't have the government-issued script which would permit us to buy either food or drink. There were 6 parched and very scared Canucks - two of whom required sunblock 50 - wandering around in downtown Havana. Parched Green, a grrl who was considering drinking urine, was interested to note that the locals figured that she was Bulgarian. It was, she now knows, a sign of the times.

Dear: daughter

Thank you so much for eating all of the chiness take out that was left in the fridge.because if you would have not eaten it I was going to take it to work for lunch today, but now I have to do the right thing and eat a Smart One

Elena and Travel girl, Your letters broke my heart. I could just feel your pain. I pray that both of you will be healed someday. Sharon

Dear Father-in-law,

Thank you for being such an inconsiderate a**wipe once again. It was a stroke of pure genius to call our house 25 minutes before we were due at yours for Christmas Eve and ask if we could push it back or just re-schedule for another day. Thanks for letting down my kids, who spent the day talking about how grandpa was going to love the gift they painstakenly picked out for him. Never mind we ate canned chicken noodle Soup because I had no time to figure out a replacement for the meal you insisted you were going to prepare. ONce again, you dropped the ball. Hell most of the time you don't even know what a ball looks like. Thanks for making such a big deal about how YOU were having Christmas Eve at your house because it WAS YOUR tradition! Yep, none of us other morons ever celebrated a Christmas Eve before. Past Christmas eve excursions to your house are painful at best. Oh, sorry, we didn't do it appropriately at my house according to your Super-Christian standards. Sorry, we didn't do the 1 1/2 hour Bible readings & reflections after dinner was served 2 hours late. Sorry my kids cried and whined because it was 2 hours past their bedtime. I hope you felt good holding us all hostage and controlled the opening of the presents till so late the kids were asleep or were such a mess they just couldn't function or appreciate their gifts properly. Thanks for being a jerk once again. I hope you keel over dead soon.

Lovingly,

Your daughter-in-law.

whew, that felt good.

Dear Son (22 months old),

Thank you so much for the best Christmas gift ever! This morning, as I watched you play with all your new toys, you took the time to walk over to me, and tell me those sweet words for the first time, "I love you, mama".

I know you didn't understand why I started to cry, but I assure you, it was because I was so happy. I tell you that I love you all the time and it felt so good to hear you say it. You are my life, and I love you so much more than you will ever know.

Love Always,

Mama