The Power of Personal Touch

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a fan of e-mail. It’s quick, it’s easy, it’s free, and it’s immediate. And because of its convenience, it has all but replaced the hand written letter. I love e-mails. I love that I can easily store them in a folder and just as easily retrieve them for future readings. But, there is something impersonal about e-mail. Maybe it’s the type, or the uniformity of it all, of the cyber delivery of it. Maybe it’s the realization that it takes such little effort to send it that lessens its value.

I’ve been slowly unpacking boxes after my move a few months ago and I recently came across a box of cards and letters. As I was sifting through a stack, my heart stopped as quickly as my hand. I sat motionless for a moment, unable to move, to blink, to breathe. Tears welled up and I knew that any effort to stop them would be in vain so I let them flow. My hand shook as I lifted three letters from the stack, letters addressed to me from my older sister who died ten years ago. I hadn’t even pulled the letter from the envelope and already I was paralyzed with emotion. There was something about holding the envelope, knowing that it had once been in her hands as she thought of me. There was something about seeing her handwriting, imagining her hand moving along the lines- knowing she was tired or in a hurry when the letters slurred. It was personal, it was tangible, and in a way it was a small piece of her. Through the years, it’s gotten more difficult to clearly recall the image of her face and the sound of her voice- and with each failure to do so, there is a slight feeling of another loss. As I sat there reading, I felt those letters bring her back to me for those fifteen minutes.

When I finished, I safely tucked them away right next to another stack of letters- love letters that my dad had written to my mom before they were married. Since my parents divorced when I was six, I never witnessed the love that once existed between them. Sometimes I sit and read my dad’s letters and know that at one time, things were as they should be. I’m comforted by that fact.

It’s difficult to reflect on the past and not think about the future, knowing that today will one day be ten years ago. Often when Jon leaves town, I will try and send a few cards and notes with him to read while he’s away. For his last trip, I decided to write him a love letter… a letter that will one day hopefully be even more meaningful than it is now.

I’m aware that in an age of computers and technology, I often take for granted the power of personal touch. It’s much easier for me to type a quick e-mail and get on with the day than it is to take the time to hand write a note or card for someone I care about. I know from experience that there is no promise of tomorrow. Someday, I’ll be gone. People will forget my face and the sound of my voice will fade from their memory. But hopefully, those I love will one day sit and hold something personal from me… something as seemingly insignificant as a letter or card- and the one thing that won’t be forgotten is how I loved and thought about them.