Letters Written in White (18 page)

He leans his head back and laughs. “Well, you got me there.”

I look out at the trees around us, their long tendrils swaying gently in the warm breeze. “So that’s why the trees are here? Because you remembered what I said?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s because your soul never forgot. Everything here, all of this, it’s what your soul encompassed.”

I look around, taking it all in once again. It’s magnificent and serene, so full of life and color.

“I don’t know if I can believe that completely. My soul was also full of sadness and darkness for most of my life.”

He scoots back, turns toward me, and says, “No, that’s where you are wrong. Your mind was full of sadness and darkness. That is a very different thing entirely. On Earth it’s nearly impossible to know it, but our minds are not at all who we are. Our brains are just an organ. When we died, our minds died too. All of this, all of what is to come, it’s your soul. Our souls never die. They are the very root of who we are, not what we are, but who we are.”

He stands up, pulling me with him.

“Look around.” He motions with his hand. “See yourself clearly for the first time, Riah. You’re the color purple. You’re a magnificent tree in the arms of nature. You’re green grass and dragonflies. You’re a song on the wings of birds. You’re a library of beautiful stories. Most of all, you are not what happened to you as a child and you are not an illness.”

As we walk, I see more and more. Looking up, I see what appears to be a library nestled in a garden of whimsical flowers and butterflies. Through the windows I can see books, so many books. Birds are singing in the distance, and a blanket of comfort seems to overcome me.

“It goes on and on. Little by little, more and more of your soul will be revealed and you will love who you are more than you could have ever imagined possible. You are Riah Winter, and here your soul is set free to be exactly who you have always truly been.”

His words caress me in a way I’m not sure I can properly describe. It’s an awakening of sorts.

“And the Key Keepers, how are they chosen?” I ask.

“It’s also a part of your soul. There’s a grand design that not even I know, nor does anyone else here know the how or why of it. Those who have an unbreakable connection to someone left behind ultimately become Key Keepers for those who are a part of their design. I was surprised I wasn’t the Key Keeper for Mom, but that wasn’t part of our design.”

Holding my hand, he stops and looks at me. “I was meant to be your Key Keeper. Maybe Dad was meant to be Mom’s. There’s really no use in questioning it because it’s decided before we even get here. It’s part of who we are to one another, our soul mates.”

He goes on to say, “It’s funny because people always imagine a soul mate to be romantic, but that’s not the case at all. It has nothing to do with romance. Yet it has everything to do with love. Strip all of the romance away, the lust, excitement, and grand gestures. Beneath all of that is where the truth really is. And if without all of that the love isn’t there, then it really never was.”

Feeling confused, I ask, “But how could I be your soul mate when there’s Lily, or Jessica even?”

“Whoever said we’re only allowed one? We have one Key Keeper, yes, but we can have more than one soul mate. They just fit into our designs differently, I suppose.”

I think about what he’s told me and I marvel at the scope of it. So much of it is unexpected, and I begin to wonder if I will be a Key Keeper for someone. The thought of this is exciting and I hope to one day have the answer.

The movement of the Weeping Willow reveals a small glimmer within its branches. It twinkles like a small speck of shiny metal.

“There’s something in that tree,” I tell Kingsley.

He just smiles knowingly.

“You know what it is, don’t you? What is it?” I ask him.

“Go see for yourself.” He motions toward the large and limber tree.

I take a step, two, three, and then I break out into a run. My hair floats in the breeze and my heart is weightless. It flutters in my chest with more life than I’ve ever felt before. My feet rise above and land upon the soft ground with ease. As soon as I reach the tree, I weave through the magical branches. They sweep across my face and dance around my body. When I look up, I see what was glimmering from a distance and my beating heart swells with hope and love. Hanging from a red silk ribbon is a shiny silver key. I rise up onto my tiptoes and untie it. Flipping it over in my hand, I look on the side of it and see a small engraved letter G.

Grayson’s key.

I’m his Key Keeper.

(Please read on for Letters Written by Real Women)

The following letters are from real women who chose to share their real struggles with you, some similar to Riah’s and some very different. Each letter is exactly as it was written in its original format. The identities of the women will remain anonymous.

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I AM A fraud.

I am a liar.

I am a hypocrite.

If you asked my friends and family they would say I live on the bright side of life, I have a smile for anyone, I laugh easily, and love passionately. Those things are true, not always, but most of the time. This is about one of the “not always” moments, the moments when my happiness and smile feel fraudulent and hypocritical.

I considered myself lucky even as the darkest clouds covered my mind. I watched people around me get verbally abused, get physically abused, suffer with addiction, die a slow death from cancer and other diseases, die a quick death from a knife, and suffer from depression (by themselves or confiding in me) sometimes leading to suicide. So most of the time when life feels like too much, I count my blessings, am grateful, and find a way to keep going.

One day, about a year ago, I tried to scream and couldn’t breathe. I felt like the whole world was standing on my chest and making it so I couldn’t even take enough air to survive. The next emotion that entered my head was “would it be so bad if I never take another breath?” It was actually a dream, a nightmare officially, but then it wasn’t. I woke up to a dark room breathing heavy and reaching for my husband. (He is an amazing, supportive, and patient man.) Only to remember that while I was free from the nightmare I wasn’t actually free from the darkness.

It wasn’t the first time I felt like I may not recover; it was just the first time I thought I might ACTUALLY NEVER recover. I will save the details of the prior instances for another time. Over the years I learned to breathe, talk it out, smile, pray, write my gratitude list, and more coping mechanisms, that I know I was lucky enough to have work for me. This time was different.

I was always able to find my way back to the smile before, to smile even though it hurt.

This time I had spent years trying to get pregnant only to discover that my body continually attacks itself causing me to be infertile. At the same time two of my best friends, my mother in law, and my grandmother were all in the process of fighting for their lives. I felt impossibly selfish because I was depressed over not being able to get pregnant. “Come ON!!!” I would verbally and mentally chastise myself throughout the day, you can live without a freaking kid, but you can’t survive terminal cancer, last stages of old age, and not getting organs donated in time, which is what my loved ones were experiencing.

I thankfully found an infertility counselor who could get through to me, told me to allow myself the chance to grieve, give myself grace to not always be happy, and to give myself room to process my feelings. She made me realize that acknowledging my feelings and sharing them with others was not diminishing my friend’s struggles. I still sometimes feel like I am being stepped on and my oxygen escapes me, but those times are less and less. I share this because this time I almost didn’t make it back. I am so thankful that others were brave enough to share their struggles with me. Hearing what other people experience helps to let me know I am not alone.

I am not alone.

It is ok if I am sad.

I am me.

DEPRESSION IS MY dirty secret. No one knows the real me, I always have a mask on. Many days I just want to lie in bed locked away from everyone so I don't have to fake it, or try. The darkness just follows you, when everyone else is out in the sunshine. There's times when you feel the sun, you enjoy it but you know it's only temporary before the black cloud comes back.

The effect it has on my marriage is devastating at times. My husband doesn't understand what it's like for me, my own personal hell. He says I look so miserable all the time, if he only knew how it felt to be this miserable. Every day I push him away, because I don't understand how he could want me, when I don't even want me. I wonder everyday how bad I'm affecting my son, does he know I'm sad a lot of days for no particular reason. Does he know I get to a point I just want to run away, but there's no use because I don't know how to get away from myself. My house work gets neglected, when I get home from work some days I just can't do it. It was hard enough to make it to work and concentrate on my task there. My family has no clue the person I really am, they only know the person I pretend to be, and I’m a fake.

I've become a person I never wanted to be, I'm ugly inside, I destroy myself with my negativity. The numbness and emptiness just swallow me whole, I'm not ME anymore.

Pile some more on me

See how much I can take

Drowning in this life

Can't seem to ever escape

How do you make it better

When you don't even know what's wrong

Keep looking for the light

But I think I'm too far gone