The Letter I Never Sent

Posted on August 14th, 2013 by in Conscious Living

Letter_Write In the field of Positive Psychology, there’s a famous happiness-boosting exercise called the gratitude letter. Designed by Dr. Martin Seligman, it involves writing, delivering, and reading a letter of gratitude to someone whose life enriched yours. When Tal Ben-Shahar, my teacher in Kripalu’s Certificate in Positive Psychology (CiPP) program, introduced this exercise, I immediately thought of an ideal recipient: my high-school English teacher.

I met Alice when I was a 15-year-old student in her class on the works of William Shakespeare, the literary love of her life. Alice would jump up on desks, gesticulating wildly as she acted out monologues from Hamlet, King Lear, and Macbeth. This tiny woman with the giant personality had contagious passion for the Bard, along with a wardrobe of distinctive belts, hats, and vests that could be called upon in a theatrical pinch.

But that was just the beginning of my friendship with Alice, who very quickly became a lifelong “believing mirror” for me—the kind of person who affirms what we’d most like to believe about our capabilities, talents, and significance. Alice told me that I was beautiful when I felt chubby and pimply. She encouraged the writer in me when I was more interested in being popular with boys. After high school, Alice cheered me on through college, career changes, and the adventures of being an independent woman in the big cities of London, New York, and Boston.

A trip home to see my family always included a visit to Alice’s house, where a sign on the front door read, “This door only opens for expected visitors.” Upon knocking, any lucky members of that group would be greeted by a hearty, “Well, hello, darling,” as Alice reached up to give the fiercest hugs and kisses I’ve ever received.

At Christmastime, we’d exchange gifts, and hers thoughtfully reflected my interests and pursuits, even when they were counter to hers. Although Alice never understood why I left a career in public radio to teach and write about “that yoga, New Age stuff,” she once gave me a statue of a woman, seated in meditation, that now sits in the room where I teach “that yoga, New Age stuff.”

In summertime, I’d chat with Alice in her backyard as she sipped Scotch and I drank iced tea. When Alice wasn’t listening to my tales, she was telling her own, including the one about how she met her husband during a business call, when his deep voice and charming wit compelled her to suggest that they continue the conversation “over lunch.” Thus began a passionate love affair between a four-foot-something teacher and a six-foot-something editor. Their marriage was cut short by his cancer, and I don’t think my dear friend ever really recovered.

Throughout the years, Alice was a loyal correspondent, sending cards full of news, musings, and encouragement that always arrived at just the right time. When my first story was published when I was 40, Alice wrote to me, “In my rank book, your story receives an unqualified A-plus. This is what you were born to do.” Later, she told me that she’d saved my letters so that I could “incorporate them into the novel you will one day write.”

The most memorable card appeared after the demise of a romantic relationship on which I’d hung very high hopes. I’d even brought my British beau to Alice’s for a Christmas morning visit, during which she turned on the charm like never before. When she later learned that Michael had abandoned ship, Alice wrote, “My dearest, I looked up the word ‘cad’ in the dictionary and, to my un-surprise, there was a picture of Michael. A second likeness appeared to illustrate the tenor of ‘despicable.’ If you are guilty of anything, my Kim, it is that, like Othello, you ‘loved, not wisely, but too well.’”

Once, Alice gave me a box of small cards, each one containing a line from Shakespeare. Written on the cover were the words, “There was a star danced, and under that was I born …,” a line from Much Ado About Nothing that conveyed her deep affection and went straight to my heart.

I was devastated to learn of Alice’s sudden death this summer, and instantly full of regret that I never wrote my gratitude letter. When I mentioned this to a CiPP classmate, she said, “You can still do it. In fact, it could be a very powerful experience.”

I had a feeling she was right.

As I sat down to write my letter to Alice, the tears began to flow. I cried for the troubled girl that I was when I met her. I cried for the 50-year-old woman who’s not sure that she’s lived up to her teacher’s expectations. I cried because I didn’t get the chance to say thanks and goodbye, and I cried because there was now one less person on Earth who loved me unconditionally.

As I finished the letter and the tears abated, I felt a deep peace come over me. A month later, I shared my reflections at Alice’s memorial service, where several other former students told me that they, too, felt uniquely seen and cherished by this childless woman who adopted so many of us as her kin.

While I can never repay my dear friend for her generous love, I can pass it on by being a believing mirror for my own students, family, and friends. I can also live, as she most certainly did, by these words from Alice’s favorite author: “To thine own self be true.”


About Kim Childs

Kim Childs is a Boston-based life and career coach and writer who specializes in Positive Psychology, She is also a Kripalu Yoga teacher and facilitator of workshops based on The Artist's Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity, by Julia Cameron. Prior to this career, Kim spent 10 years working as a public radio reporter, newscaster, and producer in New York and New Jersey before life called her in a new direction. In fact, it sent her to live, train, and work at Kripalu for two years, and she's very glad it did.

17 Responses to “The Letter I Never Sent”

  1. Megan McDonough August 14, 2013 11:59 am #

    This is absolutely beautiful, Kim. So glad you wrote it, so glad I read it. What a gift and tribute to your teacher. Through your words, Alice continues to inspire, even though I never knew her. Thank you.

    • Kim Childs
      Kim Childs August 14, 2013 2:05 pm #

      Thanks so much for your appreciation and readership, Megan.
      Yes, she inspired and touched countless people by being who she was and celebrating uniqueness in others. On Saturday, a bunch of us, her
      “kids,” gathered in her backyard to toast her and reminisce. I’m sure she
      was there, sipping her Scotch and smiling from above…

  2. My Peace Of Food August 14, 2013 3:01 pm #

    I’m sure I’m not the only one staring up at that same Shakespeare quote as I read this post, but…it haunts me. I don’t feel I always know who I am. When we feel forced to make difficult decisions, how can we trust ourselves? Or, rather, how can we rise above all that to actually understand the unravelling of the universe and be at peace with the unknowing? Gratitude can be difficult to practice when it’s probably needed the most.

    • Kim Childs
      Kim August 15, 2013 12:23 pm #

      Thanks for reading and posting those good questions, which I also ask. And you are absolutely right about gratitude – difficult at times, and always necessary. As far as knowing ourselves, I think it’s a lifelong process and education…Blessings, Kim

  3. Genie August 14, 2013 7:45 pm #

    Dear Kim:
    How lucky we are to have an Alice in our lives. You enriched her life, I am sure, as much as she touched yours. Thank you for sharing your experience. It reminded me of something I sometimes seem to forget when things are not too clear. And now, I am going to reach out to my dear “Alice.”

    • Kim Childs
      Kim August 15, 2013 12:20 pm #

      Hi Genie – thanks for your readership and appreciation, and for those kind words. I am so glad you have an “Alice” in your life, too! Hope s/he knows what s/he means to you…Blessings, Kim

  4. kate August 14, 2013 11:30 pm #

    KIMMY!! You did it! Thank you so much for expressing your love and gratitude in this lasting ode and for sharing more of what a light Alice Williams was in this world. xox kate

    • Kim Childs
      Kim August 15, 2013 12:17 pm #

      Kate – thanks for your appreciation…your family was so important to Alice. Thanks, too, for being another believing mirror in my life! Shine on, songstress…

  5. Nancy August 19, 2013 8:01 am #

    thank you. what a moving essay, in every way.

    • Kim Childs
      Kim August 19, 2013 4:19 pm #

      Thanks for your readership and words of appreciation, Nancy.

      All good wishes,

  6. Deb September 3, 2013 1:54 pm #

    Kim – Alice would have been proud – Deb

  7. Robin R November 1, 2014 7:34 pm #

    Dear Kim…this looks like it originally was written/posted a year ago. Just wanted to say how much I appreciated it. My years at the local community college were punctuated with three of the most outstanding, nurturing and loveable people in my life. Margaret Taylor, who taught journalism, was not unlike your Alice…she constantly worked to make your words better, and had the talent to not make you feel badly while doing so. She passed away on her own terms at 90+ a few years back. We didn’t see one another nearly often enough….
    Shirley and I had been very close (she taught in the Human Service program). We had many chats at her kitchen counter; she had delivered my final test results to share how well I had done, by bringing it to the counter where she knew I worked in the department store not far from her home. At one point we had a falling out; we reconnected years later…as if we’d never missed a beat, and learning that we both were involved in craftsT, card-making. By then she lived in Florida and NC. We were able to visit once; a couple years later she was very ill. I spent some time with her briefly the day before we lost her.
    Luckily, TC is still around.
    In any case, thanks for a great piece and a gratefulness sharing time of year.

    • Kim Childs
      Kim Childs November 2, 2014 1:35 pm #

      Robin – thanks so much for your readership and appreciation. And a special thanks for those great stories – I get it! Aren’t we lucky to have had such great teachers/mentors/friends?! All good wishes to you, Kim

  8. Mary November 3, 2014 11:31 am #

    Dear Kim,

    Our loved ones who are no longer embodied are aware of every thought we have of them! Alice’s sphere of love has expanded to a much greater reach. She lives in your heart, in your memories and that love will show up for you in the world in mysterious, amazing, funny and miraculous ways!

    As you share your gratitude, Alice’s love lives and shines brightly through you.

    Love lives on! Thanks for sharing your love with the world!

    • Kim Childs
      Kim Childs November 3, 2014 5:06 pm #

      Wonderful offerings, Mary – thanks!

  9. kmercure November 3, 2014 3:13 pm #

    Lovely story. The year I was turning 50, I wrote 50 letters to 50 people who had an impact on my life. One of them was to my junior high school teacher who impacted my life in such a large way, I will forever be grateful. We corresponded for several months before I learned he had cancer, and then only a few weeks later he was gone. I will never forget him, and I am ever grateful to have had those few months of correspondence with him.

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