Gratitude: In Praise for the Physical Act of Writing

Several years ago a coach told me that the very act of putting pen to paper more fully engages the brain than simply typing on a keyboard. I took that piece of information to heart, so when I need to work out a problem or send a heartfelt message, I sit down and write the old-fashioned way.

Such was the case when I wrote a lengthy thank you letter to my 94-year-old Dad on what would end up being his final Father’s Day. My letter was an acknowledgement of a lifetime of receiving his love, encouragement and humor, and since my Dad and I were similar in so many ways, it was a joyous letter to write. When Dad passed away in November 2020, I experienced the peace of knowing nothing was left unsaid.

A few months ago, it occurred to me that I could write a similar letter to my now 94-year-old Mom. But as I sat down to write it, I felt the heaviness of our more complicated relationship: although I’m close with my Mom, we don’t share the easy, copacetic banner that I shared with Dad. Still, I soldiered through the writing process and gathered together thoughts of what had brought us together over the years.

And then something wonderful happened: As I wrote, a new understanding of my Mom emerged. I could plainly see that even though we didn’t always communicate smoothly, she has been my foundation for my entire life: always there for me, always offering her ideas (sometimes more forcefully than I’d like), always trying to improve my circumstances. Instead of focusing on what was missing, by writing I could soak up the reality that her love has always been deep and abiding.

Now as life goes on for both of us, and as Mom’s circumstances change – soon she’ll be moving across the country – I have a deeper compassion and appreciation for who she is, and for what we share. And that is something to hold in gratitude and thanksgiving.