What would you most like to thank your parents for? Maybe it’s something seemingly trivial, like a present they once gave you. Or something more significant, like the sense of justice they instilled in you.
Chelsea Cameron, an 18-year-old from Dundee, shared a heart-felt thank-you letter that she had sent to her parents. In it she said that the fact her drug-addict parents were never around taught her how to make a success of her life.
Inspired by this, our writers penned thank-you letters to their parents. We also asked readers to do the same. Here’s a selection of their responses.
Natalie, 32, from Berkshire: People feel I should be angry at you, but I refuse to be
Dear Dad,
I’m 32 now, and you’ve been dead for 18 years. I’ll still never know why you decided to take your own life when I was 14. Some people feel I should be angry at you for the chasm left behind. For the confusion and abandonment and unique loneliness that suicide brings. For the unanswerable questions.
I can’t bring myself to imagine how you felt, the immeasurable pain you must have been feeling. But I refuse to be angry. The person who walked into our garage on that sunny July morning wasn’t my dad.
But I’m grateful to you, Dad, and I always will be. Thank you for sneaking into my netball matches and watching me play. I’d only realise you’d been there when you’d leave me a note before you left for your night shift congratulating me on scoring three goals. You knew I’d be distracted if I saw you.
Thank you for taking me to the local swimming pool every Saturday and rewarding me afterwards with a cone of vinegary chips. I’m sorry for kicking you in the face with my eager, flapping legs on more occasions than I care to remember. You never complained.
Thank you for holding my hand for 14 years. Thank you for your ready laugh and ability to lift me out of even the most dramatic teenage doldrums. Thank you for dancing along to Wannabe as it played on Top of the Pops in 1996 while we stripped the living-room wallpaper together.
I’m so sorry you couldn’t go on. There’s so much I wish you could have seen. I carry you with me, every day, wrapped in my heart. I’ll never know why you chose to leave, but I’ll never let you go.
Kayleigh, 29, from the East Midlands: You taught that my best is the best
Dear Mum,
Thank you for showing me that I am enough. From as early as I can remember you have never tried to shape me into being what you think is right. You have taught me that my best is the best, and have supported me with every choice I have made. I still remember leaving university and worrying about what to do next. You told me that I could work in the local shop if it made me happy. That quiet support made me pick a career that I love (and it uses my degree).
Thank you for the love you show us all, including my siblings and your grandchildren. My daughter has a wonderful relationship with you. A relationship that has blossomed through the childcare you always offer, and the money you refuse to take. The offended look on your face the first time I offered to pay you for babysitting her meant I never did again. I hope that I show my thanks in other ways.
Finally, thank you for the memories. Giggling in bingo halls, running to catch snowflakes on our tongues in the falling snow, our in-jokes that nobody else gets. You have raised us all to be good, kind people. As you say, being kind is the best trait to have, but it is sometimes the most underrated one.
Lesley, 51, from Shropshire: You were falling to pieces but you pulled it all together for our sake
Dear Mum,
Thank you for being both parents to me after dad died when I was three and Anne was one. You were falling to pieces but you pulled it all together for our sake. You taught me the value of hard work and love. We all made it through some hard times with very little money, but loads of love. You taught me the safety that is to be found in a pair of loving arms. You will have been gone for two years on 9 March and I miss you still.
Charlie, 28, from London: I wish I’d been able to bring a smile to your face more often
Dear Mum and Papa,
Thank you for being people first and parents second. You did the best you could. Mum, I should be telling you these things in person, since it’s just been you and I these last few months since Dad died. I will, I hope. I learned a great deal from you both.
Mum, I learned not to expect fairness but to fight for what I wanted. This has come in pretty handy. You care about people, but you also think about yourself. Thank you for showing me it’s OK to be imperfect, and that love is possible regardless.
Papa, as my step-dad I thank you for choosing to be my father, to raise me as your own. I’m grateful that you did, and I wish I had found the words to say so.
We laughed as you spent hours teaching me to ride a bike. The first time I managed to balance, without the training wheels, I was by myself. I ran into the house because all I wanted to do was show you I could do it. The helium balloon that I had tied to my handlebars had floated away by the time we got back. I was pretty distraught, all thoughts of the bicycle overwritten with the loss of the balloon. You were able to teach me how to lose things you love, accept it, and get back in the saddle, literally in this case. I can picture the smile on your face as I pedalled towards you. You smiled less and less over the years, and I wonder whether there was anything I could have done to make you happy, or feel less alone. I know you were from a different generation but I wish you’d been more open. I am not sure you always knew how to do that.
I wish I’d been able to bring a smile to your face more often, and that we’d been able to help each other when we needed it. It is one of my only regrets in life that we never talked more about what we meant to each other. It would have been the most valuable conversation you and I ever had. But Alzheimer’s took you away before I was ready to talk to you more openly about what you meant to me.
Your interactions taught me that people can love doggedly, that love can be cruel and ugly, but that it’s worth it. I saw how quickly two people can go from apathy to cahoots with one glance. That’s love. It’s that connection that makes people stay, helps them endure. Thank you for teaching me, for loving me, for being there.
