For most of my adult life, I’ve had a ziplock bag containing letters I received, from the first time I went to sleep-away camp until I graduated from college. The letters were from my parents and my grandparents, but mostly from my mom and two grandmothers. I learned many lessons from these strong women, who have each passed away. Many times over the past years I’ve longed to talk with them and hear what they think about the life I have created for myself. Living in a world without them has been among the greatest challenges of my adult life.

Though I knew where this bag was, I didn’t have the courage to open it and reread the letters. I was fearful that reading them would bring back the grief I had worked so hard to overcome.

Because of an unexpected occurance, I finally opened the bag. I was shocked by what happened next. Rereading the letters, after so many years, brought me unanticipated peace, love, and a renewed connection to my mom and grandmothers. I gave myself permission to let go of the sadness I’d been holding onto since their deaths, and the experience transformed my life.

As a mom of two daughters, Zoe who is twenty and Avi who is seventeen, I try to pass on family traditions and wisdom, weaving the past with the future, making sure my daughters know who they are and where they came from. I want them to know about the special women who loved and raised me, and feel proud to call these women their family. I’ve learned that leaning in to the past is best done through the lens of love, and as I unexpectedly discovered, through the handwritten word.