Thread. I want to share a small miracle. Smiling cry warning. After my mom passed yesterday (following years of Alzheimers slowly stealing her from us), I came home with a ribbon-tied stack of letters my dad wrote her 70 years ago. They were 21 going on 22. Get comfy... 
I knew of these letters. My mom swooned about them many times after my dad passed in 2007. Strangely, I never asked to read them. Then they just felt like hers, for her. They were in her drawer at the Jewish Home memory care. Yesterday they became mine. And what a blessing. So...
Last night my two dearest friends, Eileen & Karen, came over with dinner and wine. And started reading. Well, mostly Eileen read. Karen watched my face as I listened. Len and Blanche had recently met as family camp counselors at one of those places like you see in Dirty Dancing.
She'd gone home to NY to begin her teaching. He was in naval training in MD. They were smitten that summer, but true love blossomed through the USPS. I never knew this. My first screenplay (never made) that launched my career: A 22¢ Romance. The price of postage when it was set.
But wait, there's more. My dad was creative and funny and embracing of trends. A true progressive. But I never knew he could write. Not like this. And this was a man with NO fear of commitment.
We didn't read all the letters. I still haven't finished them. I want to savor them. Anyway, there was so much to laugh about. Somehow my mom must've indicated to my dad that she had done some "research" on him. I have no idea how this was possible before Instagram...
My dad tries (successfully) to convince her that no matter how many ladies were in his past (at 22), his heart now belongs to her forever. They try to arrange weekend dates/times without cell phones. My dad writes "we need two of those Dick Tracy wrist radios." !!!
Here's the miracle. We picked which letters to read at random. Eileen picked the one to end the night. My mom had had dental surgery and was in pain. My dad addresses that in the letter, but I think, last night, he was really talking to me. Or they both were:
He tells her that he knows her pain will cease soon. Then he says his day was incomplete because she was not beside him, but "the day will soon be upon us that will be complete, in every sense of the word, because we will be together forever." ❤️
We were all crying. It was as if he was talking to us, about that day. Her pain DID end. They ARE together forever. What a gift. Thank you, Daddy. I went to bed and woke up this morning feeling only relief and joy. I am so very lucky. Len and Blanche forever.
Len and Blanche ❤️❤️
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