A love letter

Is this a love letter? Yes. Is it a romantic love letter? No. I hope you’ll read on nevertheless.

In May 2009, my brother-in-law requested my feedback on a scholarship application essay he’d written. True to my contract profession self, I butchered the letter like I was getting paid a million bucks for each word altered or removed.

Something like this.

To make sure my bro-in-law understood exactly why I’d treated it so brutally, I wrote him a letter that I started with ginormous font text cautioning him, under no circumstances, to read my edits before reading my explanatory letter.

I revisited that letter today because I wanted to remind him he’s more than numbers and letters on med school applications. I’m posting it here with his consent, and a request for you:

Please try to see yourself through the eyes of those who love you. There’s a reason they love you so.

DON’T YOU DARE OPEN THE ATTACHMENT BEFORE YOU READ THE BELOW!!!

I’m biased where you’re concerned. I totally own up to that. I think you’re tied for something like second or third most awesome person in the world, ever. To be fair, though, I reached this conclusion only after knowing you for many years, and seeing the amazing capacities of both your heart and mind.

You might think this is a funny example, but do you remember coming across that severely wounded raccoon several years ago on the way back from M and S’s? With great pain, you broke its neck, not because you wanted to – it was clear you’d rather be doing anything but – but because you hated to imagine it suffering for possibly hours more until it died. Rather than letting your hands be clean of blood, you opted to speed that poor little critter to its peace, despite that it haunted you for days after. (You picked up my teddy bear a couple of days later, imitated breaking its neck and sadly asked, “Remind you of anything?”)

There is a remarkable strength in someone who is willing to sacrifice his own peace of mind for the peace of another creature. You possess that strength, and anything you write about yourself needs to reflect that. You are remarkable. Reading your essay, it struck me for the first time that you might possibly, truly not understand how freakin’ uniquely awesome you are. More often than not, a person will be endowed with an amazing heart or an amazing head, but you won in both departments.

Another testament to that is how well loved you are by your wife’s whole family. You pretty much stood as the first living, daily there, testament to that a man could be goofy and crass, yes, but all the while be fiercely protective, determined to do right, and invested in the well being of people who – by most people’s standards – bore only tangential relation to you. There are not many people who can say they have truly, with heartbreaking amounts of love and care, shaped their spouse’s entire family. And I do mean “shaped,” not just “took part in.”

All this I know about you. I have more than a decade’s worth of experience with you that informs me you are spectacular. Truly.

And yet, reading what you wrote, I’d never know it.

Your task, from me, in this and future scholarship and application essays, is to make someone else see you through my eyes. Through Bryan eyes. It might be hard, or painful, but I’ve never seen you walk away from a task because it’s difficult. Ever.

Tall order? Yes. But I can’t expect less of a man I perceive as virtually a walking miracle. I’ve just seen too much good done by your love and desire to do the right thing, always, to accept any set of words that makes you sound like Joe Next Door. You’re not Joe Next Door. It’s your heart as much as your head that makes this true, so make the heart show. Make it active and determined, like you. Most of all, make it shine, because that is what you are best at doing in this world.

Just in case you need more? Here’s what I wrote to you January 7, 2005:
“Eat my shorts!” best sums up how I feel about you. Haha,
just kidding, although that would be an appropriate quote to associate
with you. I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again: your friendship
and love changed not only Rache’s life but all of our lives. That
5’10″ frame of yours is impossibly small to shelter all that powerful
love you have shown. I mean it. You should be at least 58 feet to be
able to have that much love and courage. Your support of Rache alone
made me love you, but the way you adopted all of us showed how truly
remarkable you are. You were my first true lesson in what it meant to
really be a man, to be strong and good and powerful by virtue not of
force but of love, and respect. Though I always think of you with a
goofy smile, my strongest memory of you will always be the one in that
memoir, when you pulled over the car and just hugged me and I felt not
one whit of embarrassment to cry those heart-rending sobs when I
thought I would literally fall apart with all the sadness I felt. You
have such power to heal and bring joy. Anyone who sees naught beyond
your crude jokes and your love of the lewd is missing out on what I
think I will always see as one of the best things in this entire
world: you and the love you are not only capable of expressing but
always so willing to express. Another thing, I have to say, I so love
about you, is touched on in what I said above about adopting the whole
family… my mom, when she was still in some part my mom, after that
last encounter with our dad, said to Rache that even if you guys broke
up, you would still always be welcome, was so right. You have accepted
and not just supported but worked hard to find solutions and change
the situation our mother is in. You weren’t helping us when we tried
figuring out a way to get my mom help; you were helping Mom, helping
you, because you believe in good and love, and because in your heart
and mind, she IS your responsibility. That you would willingly and so
unselfconsciously take on such a burden, owning it not at all as a
burden but just as part of life, shows the beauty that I feel defines
you. You are a remarkable man, possessed of such love of life, talent,
enthusiasm, exuberance. The cheer you can bring with a handful of
words or a smile is unparalleled, is, I think, one of the best things
in my entire world. As I said in the letter I wrote to you and Rache
with one of those first CDs, for all the pain and scars my younger
life brought me, it was worth it just to know such love as you have to
give. I wish there were a word that expressed love to the 5,345,987th
power, because to say “I love you’” is tragically inadequate to show
how much I admire, respect and feel anchored to this world by you.

Consider my suggestions just that. They’re mere words. Only you can shape the words to reflect you as you perceive yourself, but I hope that, in writing this, you might perhaps be able to perceive a different aspect of yourself, and be empowered to write something capturing all of this awesomeness I see. I surely hope so.

I love you.

© 2012 Deborah Bryan. All rights reserved.
Duplication in whole or substantial portion is explicitly forbidden.

  1. March 8, 2012 at 5:59 pm | #1

    Damn It! I have tears welling-up! This beautiful! He sounds like a wonderful man and I hope he grabs everything that he deserves!

    • March 9, 2012 at 5:40 am | #2

      Thank you! I really hope he does, too. He has stellar numbers and extracurriculars, so someone is going to have to recognize this, the sooner to make him an excellent doctor to all his patients. :)

      • March 9, 2012 at 7:18 am | #3

        He sounds like he would be a very compassionate Doctor. And those are very hard to come by :)

  2. March 8, 2012 at 6:35 pm | #4

    Great letter to your brother.. we need so many more people in this world that would break the neck of a suffering raccoon and deal with the haunting. I am serious. Those are the kinds of people I want to know in this world.
    He deserves every wonderful thing that comes his way. And I love how you yelled at him in giant bold face type with many exclamation points about what to read first!

    Love this post. :)

    • March 9, 2012 at 6:02 am | #5

      we need so many more people in this world that would break the neck of a suffering raccoon and deal with the haunting.

      I absolutely agree! Seeing how much it wrecked him and knowing he’d still do it all over again made me feel honored to know him. I have so much love for this man, who really did adopt not just a wife so much as a wife and her family.

      As re: the giant bold fond, it was a for-friends version of something I do at work. When I’m sending over redlines that are way, way too red, I call first and explain what I was trying to accomplish. That way someone can read my edits with a mind to what I was actually trying to accomplish, instead of assuming the worst. That phone call preceding has made many a negotiation more pleasant!

      Thank you, Darlene. I second your thought he deserves everything wonderful that comes his way–here’s hoping to a LOT of it! :D

  3. March 8, 2012 at 6:41 pm | #6

    I can’t say much more than “wow!” Beautiful words to a beautiful person.

    • March 9, 2012 at 6:04 am | #7

      Thank you, Victoria. ♥

      Reading this reminded me it’s been way too long since I sent a love letter to a friend. April ’11 was the last one (unless you count a post that invoked love for two of my girlfriends and thus was a kind of implicit love letter), so I think I’d better add this to my to-do list!

  4. March 8, 2012 at 7:31 pm | #9

    What a wonderful gift to give someone… to show them how you see them! This is so beautiful, I had tears welling up! He sounds like an incredible person, one who truly makes the world a more beautiful place simply because he is in it. Just the same way I feel about you!

    Oh, is it bad that one of my favorite parts of this is the saved title of your image?! Because after wiping the tears out of my eyes, I chortled at that! (Really, I chortled… because I will never, ever be able to laugh in a lady-like way.)

    • March 11, 2012 at 8:17 am | #10

      He really is. And, aw. Thank you. (With a side of “ditto”.) ♥

      I love sending these notes as often as I remember. I’ve been lucky to receive a few of my own, and memory of them is uplifting for years after receiving them!

      I just chuckled, taking a peek at the image. That was so appropriate the evening I made it! Things got a lot better after I stepped away from edits for a couple of weeks and realized I needed to make some bigger changes to make the daily changes possible.

      Love your thoughts on chortling! Once in a while something will genuinely make me giggle, but 99% of the time what I do is much more aptly described as “chuckling” or “chortling.” :D

  5. March 8, 2012 at 7:58 pm | #11

    That was beautiful and powerful. You are amazing.

    That is all.

  6. March 8, 2012 at 7:59 pm | #13

    I wrote a similar thing for my nephew when he was applying to med school. We have to gentle with our words — especially to non-writers. They aren’t used to getting hacked the way we are.

    My nephew was initially affronted, but then he took every piece of advice.

    We should all write love letters to each other! Yes yes!

    • March 9, 2012 at 5:59 am | #14

      The level of gentleness needs be tied to the level of friendship. I would bet that your relationship with your nephew is not like my relationship with my brother-in-law, whose unflinching honesty even when the honesty has hurt is the core of our friendship. Like with the raccoon, he’d rather lose a little of his own peace of mind to help someone find theirs (or resolution, or resolve) than not speak up. Would I write this letter to most of my friends? Heck no, although I do try making a point of send love letters to each of them as often as I remember. We all need that in our lives.

      But for the dude who whapped me upside the head a decade ago when I confessed I was struggling with bulimia, shook his head and said, “You’re better than that,” only the bare, naked truth from a place of total love would do.

  7. March 8, 2012 at 9:09 pm | #15

    That is a truly beautiful love letter. I hope it is one that he treasures. If he is a fraction of the 58 foot tall man you described he would say ‘anyone would have done the same’. You know better and I hope you and Rache have convinced him.
    Thank you so much for again showing us the amazing caring woman you are.

    • March 11, 2012 at 8:20 am | #16

      I have to admit to being surprised by comments about my goodness in re: this post, since I posted it as a reflection of his goodness! I’d have to write a very, very long post indeed (possibly even 58′!) to get all of it in there, but this highlights some of it. :)

      Thank you!

  8. March 9, 2012 at 4:03 am | #17

    Ah bless you, so lovely!

  9. March 9, 2012 at 5:35 am | #19

    Ah, my friend, you have such an amazing gift for words. I can imagine simultaneously feeling super lifted up by, but also afraid of not living up to this letter to your brother-in-law. But I can also see rewriting my entire essay like the six-million-dollar man; better, stronger, faster. ;) What an amazing testament to him.

    But I thought you weren’t planning to publish this. ??

    • March 9, 2012 at 5:38 am | #20

      I looked at this letter to include an excerpt in another post, one I had to write though I knew it would be unhelpful for me to publish. I glimpsed at this for an excerpt, but then read it and realized I had an option for posting something. This. :)

      • March 9, 2012 at 5:56 am | #21

        Excellent. I’m glad you did.

  10. March 9, 2012 at 7:33 am | #22

    How sweet of you to take the time to tell your BIL just what he means to you. I rarely go that extra distance, even if the thoughts are in my head and heart. You’re inspiring me to be a better me once again, Deb. Damn, I hate when you do that!

    • March 11, 2012 at 8:22 am | #23

      You’re inspiring me to be a better me once again, Deb.
      And you, Peg, are inspiring me to chuckles once again–but then, this seems to happen whenever I read from you!

  11. March 9, 2012 at 7:34 am | #24

    Wow, Deb. What a stunningly lovely letter. You are such a great sister–such an amazing human being with the hugest of hearts!
    Hugs,
    Kathy

  12. March 9, 2012 at 8:07 am | #26

    You have once again brought to life the intangible. I have a picture of my enormous extended family and I am reminded of all the funny people that make it up, fondly referred to as the in and out laws. I am uncertain how you bring me reminders of my own family, both the love I have for them and the angst they sometimes cause me, but I am always grateful for it.

    I wish there was a love button I could press each time I visit here, I would hold it down for minutes rather than simply press it once.

    • March 11, 2012 at 8:25 am | #27

      Thank you, Valentine! I wish there were that same button for your comments. After I read the one above, it was hours before my heart was willing to move on to other matters. ♥

  13. March 9, 2012 at 8:31 am | #28

    This brings up such a good point…Not only is it a lovely letter to a wonderful person, but by giving your bro-in-law the love letter with instrux to read it first, you’ve got me thinking. As a teacher of writing, I’m frequently commenting on student work. And walking that fine line between detailed criticism and snuffing out their creative flame. I tend to go overboard, rewriting sentences for more active voice, fewer abstractions, etc. And then wondering how the recipient will feel–seeing a sea of Track Changes on their original. Many students thank me profusely; others have written that they’re considering dropping the class. OUCH. I’ve learned to pull back, to rely on “less is more”—and yes, I’m always careful to find something to praise. If I knew the equivalent of the raccoon story for all my students, my task *might* be easier–but the important message you’ve left me with this morning is to remember the person behind the words and to honor that person, while helping him/her find the best words..

    • March 11, 2012 at 8:34 am | #29

      Once or twice a month, I’m asked to give someone feedback on something they’ve written. There are a couple of people it’s very easy for me to provide feedback to, for all the years of honesty and open conversation between us. I try to point out both the good and the bad even in those cases. (Indeed, in the case of my BIL’s letter, the letter itself was written well and did a great job reflecting his intellectual capability without showing the heart part–the combination of which I felt would set him apart–hardly at all.)

      In other cases, I try to limit my changes to the most important ones. It means the good that’ll be done by my feedback might not be as extensive, but if someone’s so dejected by my input they ignore it entirely, then that’s 0% benefit from my feedback. Over time, I’ve learned from the contract process; if I send someone a contract they sent me redlined so much it looks like the document image above, there’s a chance they’ll walk away from further negotiations. So I’ve learned to look for the bigger themes and touch on those.

      Of course, my writing friend Sarah helped with this too when she offered her first round of feedback on The Monster’s Daughter a few years back. She did it in such a way that I saw there was lots of work left to do, but also excited and hopeful that I could actually get it done. I decided I wanted to be like her. :)

      I have to say it would be hard to provide feedback to someone with whom I had no history whatsoever. That sounds extremely challenging, and I’m honored if anything I’ve written here makes that a little smoother.

  14. March 9, 2012 at 8:55 am | #30

    Wow–Deborah, I see this as incredibly generous. As we say on Passover “it was enough” (dayenu) that were willing to edit his work, but to go this extra step is such a gift. I like how you are trying to get him to get the READER (admissions office or whomever) to see him like you do. That’s the work of an amazing editor.

    • March 11, 2012 at 8:36 am | #31

      The real trick–and one I wish I could work!–would be to get everyone in the entire world to see him as I do. He and my sister make one amazing combination of love and awesomesauce. ♥

  15. Mary Lourcey Jones
    March 9, 2012 at 10:40 am | #32

    If he is half as awesome as your letter suggests, how you all must treasure him! Beautiful post!

    • March 11, 2012 at 8:36 am | #33

      Thank you, Mary! We really, really do. It’s strange imagining the last 15 years without him. In fact, I think I’d rather not. He’s been such a light throughout them!

  16. March 9, 2012 at 8:16 pm | #34

    This is fantastic!

    I’ve always felt so limited when I write essays, you know? No matter how I put it, I always feel like it’s missing that one thing, yet if I add it, it’s missing something more.

    Hopefully I will be so lucky to be challenged when I begin writing my essays for scholarships!

    -MTO

    • March 11, 2012 at 8:40 am | #35

      I definitely relate! No matter what goes in, there’s always something else that must be left out.

      In my BIL’s case, he’d written a great letter that reflected his eloquence and intellect very well, but didn’t show much of his compassion. For this essay, I felt like the inclusion of that would move it from “great” to “irresistible.” Then again, as you say, word limits mean that certain other things have to fall out to accommodate the new stuff!

      I wish you much, much luck when writing those essays! :)

  17. March 10, 2012 at 5:20 am | #36

    Oh Deb, this honestly brought tears to my eyes! I can only imagine the profound impact your words had on him. You definitely have that gift – to show us the people you love through YOUR eyes, and it’s truly astounding. I think I love him, too, now! LOL

    • March 11, 2012 at 8:42 am | #37

      In addition to being crazy-smart and full of love, he’s a riot. I think if you met him, you guys would have a BLAST.

      Actually, now that I think about it, I really, really wish that were happening. Right about now. ♥

      Ever had a hankering to visit my hometown? ‘Cause that would be awesome. :D

  18. March 10, 2012 at 11:02 am | #38

    If I received a letter like this I’d be an emotional wreck for months afterwards! Beautiful Deb, your brother-in-law sounds like a real keeper! x

    • March 11, 2012 at 8:46 am | #39

      He really is! When he was 16, he told me he felt so lucky to have not only the best girlfriend in the whole world, but an awesome friend in her sister. I realized he was a highly uncommon guy at that point, and since then I’ve come to think often my own version of what he once told me: Not only do I get the best sisters in the whole world, I get their husbands, too. I feel pretty darn lucky. :)

  19. March 15, 2012 at 10:09 pm | #40

    Good Lord, you really got into it! :-)

  1. March 9, 2012 at 11:27 am | #1
  2. March 11, 2012 at 9:09 am | #2
  3. March 11, 2012 at 6:54 pm | #3

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