After the death of a loved one, the receipt of a posthumous letter from them can be
enormously comforting. Yet few of us have written our own. Now, two women have set
out to make this precious legacy easier to achieve
Earlier this summer, Guardsman Neil Downes became the 60th British soldier to be killed
in Afghanistan when a landmine exploded under the truck in which he was travelling.
You may remember the pictures of him that appeared in the newspapers – a fresh-faced
20-year-old with what his girlfriend Jane Little described as a 'million-watt smile'.
If so, you won't have forgotten the poignant letter he left for Jane, to be opened
only in the event of his death. 'I'm sorry to put you through all this darling…' he
wrote. 'All I want to say is how much I loved you and cared for you…I will be watching
over you always. I hope you have a wonderful life.
Get married, have children…I will love you for ever.' Neil left an equally poignant
letter for his parents, telling them: 'Please do not be mad at what has happened…celebrate
my life because I love you and I will see you all again.' His words are as simple
as they are heartrending, and there can be little doubt that those he loved will draw
great comfort from them as they grieve.
According to a recent survey, 72 per cent of us would like to receive such letters
from loved ones in the event of their deaths. Fewer of us, however, have composed
letters ourselves.
As a soldier, Neil had been forced to think the unthinkable (all UK service personnel
are encouraged to leave letters), but many of us prefer to push such thoughts to one
side. While 49 per cent are planning to write lasting messages, only three per cent
have done so.
Jill Green, 45, knows the incalculable value of being able to hold on to the reflections
of someone close. Five years ago, shortly after her father, Dennis, died, an envelope
addressed to her was found among his papers. Inside, on two sheets of Basildon Bond
notepaper, Dennis had poured out his thoughts. 'He wrote down those things he never
managed to say out loud – how much he loved me and how proud he was of me,' Jill says.
She keeps the letter in her bedroom drawer. 'I go to it at random moments and it still
makes me cry, but I would rather sit there and read it than go to the cemetery. It
has been such a comfort.' For Jill's best friend, Angie Mills, 48, however, there
is no such solace. Her husband Phil died in 2005 at the age of 46 after a two-year
battle with cancer. She knows he wanted to write letters for her and their two sons,
Karl, 22, and Danny, 21. 'He would pick up a pen and say that he wanted to jot down
some thoughts, but then, in frustration, put it down because the words wouldn't come.'
After Phil's death, Angie scoured the house, hoping that he had discovered the inspiration
he needed, but she found nothing. 'Between us, Jill and I know the value of having
a letter and not having one, which is why we've decided to do something about it,'
Angie says.
The two friends launched a new website, leavealetter.com, which has been designed
to encourage everyone to put into words the thoughts and feelings they would want
to be communicated in the event of their death.
It may sound rather a maudlin business venture, but the moment you meet Jill and Angie,
you know there is nothing downbeat about it. They have known each other almost 20
years, having met through what Angie calls 'corporate wives syndrome' – their husbands
were both car-industry executives.
The rapport between them is evident in the way they finish each other's sentences
and the way that, although we are meeting at Jill's house, near Farnham in Surrey,
it is Angie, who lives nine miles away in Camberley, who puts the kettle on for our coffee.
Like many best friends, they have shared landmark celebrations and crises. Jill's
two children, Elliott, now 16, and Naomi, 12, were just toddlers when their grandfather's
cancer was diagnosed in the mid-1990s. 'All through my dad's illness, Angie was the
one who was there to help me look after the children when I had to dash to the hospital,
and to just be there at the end of the phone when I needed her,' says Jill.
Although Jill has an elder brother, he is handicapped, and she therefore felt that
she had to be on hand to assist her mother during the eight years that her father
fought cancer of the kidney and intestine. Dennis Cutler, a retired printer, was always
close to his daughter, and his illness brought them closer together. 'But he belonged
to a generation that did not betray its emotions,' says Jill. 'I remember, at my grandmother's
funeral, he wore dark glasses so that no one would see him crying. I tell my kids
every day that I love them, but he could never have been so openly affectionate with
me.' She was overcome, therefore, when, shortly after his death at the age of 72,
her mother Freda found two envelopes, one addressed to her, and one to Jill. 'We sat
in the kitchen, side by side, and read them. All those things that I knew in my heart
he felt, but I had never heard him say, he had put on paper. As I read the words,
I could hear his voice. It was an incredible moment.' A year after Jill's father died,
Phil was diagnosed with primary liver cancer, and two years later, in May 2005, he
was told his condition was terminal. 'We came home from hospital that day and Phil
opened a bottle of champagne. That was his attitude. You take these things on the
chin, and you carry on,' says Angie.
In the ensuing weeks, Phil said that he would compose letters for his wife and children,
but as Jill, having observed the course of cancer, points out, 'The problem with cancer
is that it takes over. You think you still have plenty of time, and then suddenly
that time runs out.' As Phil's condition deteriorated, he and Angie did have time
to, as she puts it, 'talk it all out'. Much harder for Phil was having heart-to-heart
talks with his sons, Danny and Karl. 'There can't be anything worse than telling your
children you are going to die, and he couldn't do it. I did it for him. Danny gave
him a hug; Karl had to leave the room, he was so churned up.' It was some months after
Phil died that Danny and Karl asked their mother, 'Why didn't Dad leave us a letter?',
Angie says. 'For them, not having something tangible from their father has left a
vacuum. It is the last thing Phil would have wanted, and there is nothing I can do
to make it up to them. But their question made me think I could do something for others.'
Angie is a former hairdresser and beauty therapist. Jill was once a travel sales executive.
Neither of them had worked since having children; both had been looking for a second
career but struggled to find something worthwhile to pursue. The idea of encouraging
others to leave a letter has proved the solution.
'When someone dies,' says Jill, 'it is often hard to look at old photos and videos
– they are such a stark reminder of what you've lost. But a letter gets to the heart
of what really matters. There are many times when I have sat and read mine over and
over, and on a low day it always helps.' The idea behind the website, which launched
this summer, is that letter-writers will have a secure, confidential base to work
from. Subscribers pay £9.99 a year to write letters for up to eight recipients. They
will not have to worry about loved ones coming across the letters accidentally while
rummaging through drawers or scanning computer files. They can write them when inspiration
strikes, insert pictures and update and alter when necessary. The website provides
a printable certificate that can be left among documents, or with a solicitor, and
provides instructions on how each individual recipient can retrieve their letter after
the subscriber's death. It is essential that those writing letters ensure they let
someone know they are doing so (if the yearly subscription expires, the letters could
be lost, though Angie and Jill assure me they will be careful to send out reminders
by post and email and they will also allow a grace period for retrieval).
'It sounds morbid, but it doesn't have to be a sad thing to do,' says Angie.
'You can make your letters as humorous as you like, as well as heartfelt. And you
will know that you are providing a priceless legacy.'
Leavealetter.com
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