To my parents,
I have no idea how I'm going to get through this letter without crying. It seems silly, I guess, to write a letter to people who are no longer in this world, but it's also seems like the only appropriate thing to do.
Mama, I found your letter two days after your funeral, resting primly in the drawer of your nightstand.
I started weeping the minute I saw my name on the envelope, written in your beloved and barely legible handwriting.
And I knew what it said even before I started reading.
I always knew, Mama. From the time I was old enough to understand such things, I knew there was something different about me, something special, that set me apart. There's no doubt in my mind you loved Jon and Chris as much as you loved me, but there was always something else in your eyes when you looked at me.
I finally put it together. What made me special was that I was the product of a very special kind of love, a love different than what you had with Daddy. Or, I guess, the man I called Daddy.
You know, it didn't upset me when I deduced that I wasn't Alex Hall's child. I knew he loved me just as much as he would have loved his own daughter and I loved him as though he were my natural father. I still do.
But I felt so sorry for you, Mama. I thought of how much you must have loved the man who was my father, how much you must have missed him. I saw picture's of you at Uncle Rick's from before I was born. Your smile was so dazzling, so unfettered. I had never seen you smile like that and I finally realized why. You loved Alex Hall, but the only man you had ever truly given your heart to was gone. I used to lie awake at nights when I was younger, wondering who my father was and what had happened to separate to people so in love.
Papa-
One night, when I was sixteen, I awoke from a barely remembered dream, crying. I was missing something, aching for something. I kept searching through my brain, trying to figure out what it could have been that I was missing so much and my mind kept lighting on a day long ago,when I was just a little girl, and I had met one of Mama's friends in a park.
You, Daniel Santos. My father.
I was missing you. I had always missed you.
That's when I realized who you really were and why, of all my childhood memories, that's always been the one that stands out.
I am proud of you, Papa. More than I can ever say. And I would have been proud of you no matter what. You made my mother, who was the best person I have ever known, so happy, even if it was for a very brief time. The only thing I regret is that I never got to know you and let you be a part of my life.
I saw you at my wedding.
It was the only moment during the entire ceremony that I thought I was going to cry. You were so handsome and tall, standing in the back of the church and it made me so happy to know that you had come. I wanted to say something to you, but I knew I wasn't supposed to know who you were. But I did, Papa. You were a father any girl would be proud of and I thought how lucky I was. Most children only get one dad and I had the two best anyone could hope for.
I'm crying now as I write these last few words. Tears of sorrow for all that you should have had but couldn't and tears of joy that I was fortunate enough to be part of such a love. I love you both and I hope you're smiling down on me from heaven even now.
Mama, I know you're stunning in you white gown of lace and satin, and Papa, handsome as can be in your tux. And I hope you're both laughing.
You spent to much of your time on earth crying.
You always told me I was special, Mama,but it was because of you that I was. Both of you. Any child born to two people who felt about each other the way the two of you did is destined for happiness.
I was truly blessed to have you as parents.
My heart forever,
Bella
P.S. Your three grandchildren, Michael, Abigail, and the newest addition, Daniel, send their love as well.