Dearest Children

We used to receive emails that started off with this heading.  When that happened, I knew immediately that one of us (her five children) had done something that was not to her liking.  Sometimes, I knew right away that  I was the intended recipient.  Sometimes, it took a couple of phone calls to determine who was the culprit.  The reasons were varied, ranging from the deep-seated hurt of one of her children not adhering to certain values she felt were important, to imagined slights to which she became more sensitive as the years went by.

The problem with her putting them in writing was that they could be read over and over again and bring back all of the emotions and resentments that came with them.  I used to think of it as an act wherein the writer felt the need to unload her sentiments by burdening the recipients with unnecessary negative feelings.   I used to wonder what these accomplished that could not have been handled by some other form of communication.  The other problem with the written word is that they are subject to interpretation based on who the reader is.  Sometimes, the reader has baggage that comes into play and things get blown out of proportion.

Having left the Philippines at a young age, I was shielded from a lot of the daily drama that occurs when different personalities come into play.  However, with the onset of technology, it managed to cross the shores and into my otherwise peaceful existence.  While I do not go out of my way to meet it, I am also the type who does not run away from a fight, so I guess that does not help matters any.

It was very rare that any of us wrote back. We knew better.  More often than not, the favored child would call her and soothe her hurt feelings. I have been known to call her and say the words she wanted to hear.  It was rare, I admit, especially if I felt it was unwarranted, but I did it anyway, because I loved her. Sometimes, we would just let time take care of things and proceed with life as if that bump never existed.  That is family.  A sister once said "What is the point of quarreling when we know we are just going to get back with each other?"  

When Mommy passed away, I was glad I kept some of her correspondence.  I hear her voice and it keeps me grounded when I feel the need to respond to a "Dear Sister" message.