I wish I could play music.
Sing like an Opera singer.
Write as if I have lived many lives.
I wish doors opened for me.
I wish I was lucky.
And much younger when I got my act together.
Good at math.
And I could live long enough to see earth from space.
I wish time never ran out.
Not for me, not for anyone.
Sit with my grandparents and just listen to them.
Then, travel to the future to meet my great grandchildren.
Look at them from afar and see me and him, in them.
Find out how books are read in the year 2100.
How space travel is a thing everyone does.
I wish I could meet an alien.
And see worlds beyond this one.
I always wanted to tell Bjarne about facebook.
How the ipod became the phone.
He died before all of that came about.
Show him pictures of the girls.
I wish I knew the year I would die.
And slow that year down.
And even though I might never make it to 2100, and sing like an opera singer, I know one thing for sure.
During my time here, I was able to slow down my thoughts so I could write you these letters.
I made meaning out of my pain.
I somehow found a way to mend hearts scattered around earth without a rocket ship.
Or time travel abilities.
I found a way to speak to you without a phone, or ever meeting you in person.
I didn’t need math, or luck or even doors to open for me, so I could get to you.
Maybe after all, I was good with words.
And that was enough.
With the whole universe by my side,
P.S. You can see this letter on the blog here.
PPS. If you have a friend who has gone through a loss and would like to receive this letter every Friday send them to this page so they can sign up.