Saddest Letter in the World

The other day I received a very odd phone call.

It was from a woman who announced right off the bat that she was calling from New Orleans and if I wanted some sort of verification of who she was she could supply me with it. Needless to say I was taken off guard from the git go.

What danced through my mind was that I was about to be lead into some bizarre take on the Nigerian Money Scam, only this time originating from a woman in New Orleans with a slight Irish accent.

As her story went on I became more and more intrigued, confused and yes suspicious as to what the heck was going on. She had spoken for a good five minutes before I finally said, “Excuse me, what is it you want from me?”

She was very nervous and then told me the reason for her call.

She had gotten my number for the white pages, aol.com to be precise, and she is trying to find out if a relative of hers that lives in the same building was still, well, alive I guess. She described an elderly gentleman, about 68 years old. I immediately knew exactly who she was talking about. I said, yes, I do know who your talking about. She told me that her family recently moved from Ireland to New Orleans, that she is married to a man who is the son of the elderly gentleman who live sin my apartment building, that his son now has kids and they just want to let him know that the family is doing great, that he has grand children and that they would love to hear from him.

Oh, yeah, and that his kids had not heard or seen him in over twenty five years!

That is when my curiosity and slight bit of apprehension fell to the floor and a complete sense of compassion and sadness fell over me. I was shocked. You see, this fellow that lives in my building, he is such a kind, quiet, friendly person. In the two years that I have lived here, I see him periodically in the hall, slowing making his way down the stairs or checking his mailbox. There is always a smile and a hello and usually some sort of jocular quip such as “Another day in paradise.” in response to the ever present sunshine here in Southern California. I liked him, I liked him a lot.

So now, here is his extended family on the phone trying in any way possible to re-connect with him. She told me that they had sent a certified letter a few weeks ago, but that there was no reply. So, that is why they tried contacting someone else who lives in the same building and thus how they found me.

When I told her that I had seen him, she was so happy and all she wanted to hear was whether he was all right or not. I told her he seemed really good and that I always enjoy seeing him in the hallway.

I then told her I would slip a note under his door with her phone number and how she had found me and perhaps that will elicit a call or a message or something.

She thanked me profusely for me time and kindness and we got off the phone.

I wrote the note and slipped it number his door at apartment number nine. The next day I received this letter in return. As far as I can remember, it is the saddest letter I have ever seen, and certainly the saddest I have ever received from a virtual stranger.

nolanletter72007.jpg

Henry,

Thank you for the courtesy of relaying the recent message. I certainly hope you were not inconvenienced in any way.

A few weeks ago I received a certified letter from a person claiming to be my eldest son’s current wife. Hence, I have a phone number, web sites etc.

I did not respond and do not intend to do so. Next month my son will become fifty years of age.

I have maintained no personal contact with family members since 1959 and see no reason to do so now. A lifetime has passed without us having ever known each other.

Sorry you were bothered and I don’t know why. They knew I resided here because a return receipt was requested when I signed for the certified letter.

Thank you again,

“The man in apt nine”

 

All I can think of is what horrible circumstances could create such division within a family, that this man would have no interest in hearing, seeing, or knowing about his own children and grandchildren.

It is incomprehensible to me, but there it is.

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Who me? Well, Uh, I used to have a website (still do) that I love(d) and always wanted it to be pretty much a blog, even though blogs did not exist when I started the site. Like a daily newspaper of all things Hank is the way I always looked at it. So now, I crumbled and have a blog like the rest of humanity.
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