Prompt A: Letter to the person I admire the most (1997)

Jessica,

I don't know how long it's been since we've actually spoken. Probably since Kraven's funeral. I'm sorry I haven't written. I know how much you love getting letters, especially from your favorite niece. I've just let too many things get in the way of being good to you--of showing my love for you. Maybe I haven't kept in contact with you because I feel too far apart; maybe it's because I purposely distract myself. I'm sure it's both. You moving out was so hard for me, at such a pivotal point in my life. I'm sure I blamed you for it at the time. Maybe I still do. Though I know it was right--for both of us. It's my fault, really, for not keeping up. You've gone through so much that I haven't been there for.

I don't know if you realize, but you taught me to be who I am. In fact, you shaped who I am. I look up to you. You're a perfect mother, a wonderful wife, a caring person, and a beautiful, intelligent woman. I hope to live half the life you have already led. When I found out you had cancer, my world shook. I haven't even talked to you in years though I thought so many times to pick up the phone and call, or get anything down on paper and send it off to you. I felt like it was my punishment for loving you so much and not doing anything about it. I cried selfishly thinking about all our time lost and the fading hope of time left. I cried deeper thinking about your children, my beautiful cousins, possibly growing up without a mother; no, without you for a mother. And while you suffered through radiation, you were the one to show everyone else compassion, joking that you were radioactive, making light of your body's war on itself. Your only compliant uttered was that Asher, Hila, Gabe, and little Hannah couldn't be near you when you went through the treatments. Cancer didn't faze you outwardly, though I know you well enough to gather that it tore you up inside. Physically and more important, emotionally. More so than you made known. You were more angry that you couldn't exercise your need to give, not because you may be erased from this world. I shutter still when I think about losing you. It is still a great fear of mine.

I miss our conversations. The ones where we could go on for eons, with you being so patient with my little knowledge of the world; my maturity was so obsolete to yours, but I didn't think that then. You gave and I took. I took so much from you over those years. I was soaking up all that you had to offer, taking advantage of such a loving soul. You never complained. You just quietly taught me and made up for the mothering I lacked, what I didn't think I needed. But I did. You knew better, as you do now. Jessica, I want to thank you. You gave me, and continue to give me, a better life. I have changed my perception time and again to emulate your own. And though you were the only one to give me permission, no, validation to be myself, I have always wanted to be like you. I don't think I communicate that sufficiently. You know I love you and I know you love me, unconditionally. I could never ask for more from you. I promise to try, to shallowly attempt to give back to you a fraction of what you have done for me. I guess it starts with this very public, very cheesy letter. I can't wait to see you and your family again. Christmas will have more than enough to celebrate this year.

With love eternally,
Miki