Letter to Carrie Loveridge

I’d like to dedicate this post in loving memory to Carrie Loveridge, a childhood friend I knew way back when. Honestly, she may be gone from this world but I know I should have known her better. I’m literally having a bad day, so here, readers, and yes, Carrie and any family who is reading this, is a letter to her from me. Honestly, I must speak to her, and it is the only way I ever will.


Dear Carrie,

Here I sit in a tiny box, tears flowing down my cheeks. I have had my tender heart broken eight times. I don’t know if you know an ex of mine I met five years ago at CCB, Colorado Center for the Blind, but if you knew me, well, I hope you’re watching me. It feels terrible what it seems people are doing to me, telling me that I’m worthless, don’t need to date, etc. I am being abandoned by friends due to a recent mental health diagnosis, then another ex decided to beg like the beggar he tends to be for my poor broken heart. Carrie, you are so lucky you never had relations with a man. Carrie, I swear my ex from another life does not know who you are, I wish he’d listen as you speak to him. I wish you would come back to me, but Carrie, I don’t want to see you upset at the stuff going on in this world. People are killing each other over the stupidest things, least of all because “I can’t have anybody but you, and you can’t be with anyone but me.” That is a stupid thing to do. And then, there’s religion. Islamic extremists think it’s great when you blow up the so called infidels. No, what is an infidel anyway? Carrie, I wish I had a friend in high school I could have spoken to without being yelled at. Carrie, I so wish you had just stayed with this world, not so much for me, but you are someone who could have made this world a better place. You made everything you touch turn into butterflies, not gold. And you know what a butterfly does? It flies about, pretty wings and all.

Carrie, you probably know my ex-boyfriend lost someone to gun related violence. Look, I know plenty of others who could say gun violence touched their lives. But Carrie, my dear sister, ther is someone down there missing the victim of gun violence. There is another person who would give anything, even if it means I’m the dead person on the floor or injured person in a hospital bed, so that someone could be alive. Carrie, that’s not the only thing. If you would please tell me if it’s wrong to say this: I would rather have had the cancer that took your life. I would rather sometimes have been homebound for the last few years of your life. My life, I mean. Carrie, in the current state of things, I would rather all my friends and people who truly cared about me speak the truth. And the truth was, is, right here and now, that I was a messed up individual. Carrie, I am not saying that being blind is a bad and serious nuisance. But if I could do anything, I would give my life so someone else could enjoy the things I currently would do better with God for. Personally, Carrie, I close my mind’s eye and wonder. Where are you sitting now? Are the flowers in Heaven the same as the ones on Earth? What about the butterflies? Carrie, if there is anything I could do, well, I don’t know. If you had the power to, I would ask you to change me into a butterfly, large and pink and colorful around the body and wings. Let me flutter around anyone who needs a good sign, and I would carry with me a message. I love you. If you could, maybe you could change me to a bird, a large eagle or bald eagle. The American symbol of freedom, I would fly high over mountains and I would deliver the sign that peace on Earth and freedom to think are the mark of courage God should send to us. As the eagle, I would swoop down over the boondocks in Arizona, the thoroughfares in Los Angeles, the mountains in Colorado, the coast of Florida, anywhere that a lover or former lover or current friend of mine lies sleeping. I would swoop through my friend’s window, carrying the message tied to my leg. I would sit down on his or her shoulder, I would preen my wings, and it would probably be weird. But I would leave behind a feather. Imagine if my recent ex found a feather on his shirt, woke up and wondered what and how it got there. IF it took me breaking the windowpane, I would do it just to give him a sense of comfort. I would then flutter to his mom’s window, sit on the windowledge, break down the window, and or leave the feather on the windowledge. She’d find it and … well, squeak in delight, “Oh, my Gosh, a bird feather sits on the window. Look, come look!” She’d pick up the feather and cradle it in her hands, same with her son. They’d both see the feathers, caress the feathers, and they would know that I wasn’t far, or love wasn’t far, etc. Carrie, I wish you could come back as the bird and give me a wing or two so I could do this.

Carrie, if I could take back one thing that I might have done wrong, well, there are too many things I would take back. Maybe I would

spend more time with you. I would not take God’s name in vain in front of friends or family. I would shut up and listen. I would maybe ask to leave my family’s home earlier so the whole loneliness issue would shut itself up. If I could take one thing in life and do it over, maybe it would be my entire life. I should’ve been born sighted, and then I could tell you your hair style was cute. Then, when I am born in this major do over, I would be a planned and in wedlock pregnancy that would be met with joy and satisfaction and we’d still be friends. I would still play with you, we would grow old together. Carrie, if there was something else to do over, it would be the way I was educated in school. It would be the way I could seek out friends. I would be away from my mom a lot, take walks down the street, go see the kids next door, etc. I would be happier that way.

If I could live in this do over universe, I could tell you that you smile too big. Well, no smile is too big for any face. No heart is too large for the soul and body it fits with. Carrie, you had a heart that was two sizes larger than what I am seeing in society today. Many people are heartless and some go to great lengths to show it. Carrie, if you had seen the mass shootings covered in the media, well, at least you are safe in the arms of God. But there is only one thing, I wish I had seen you once before you left this world. But in the town of Do Over, we both would not have disabilities, and we would be going to prom with nice handsome Christian men who would wear dark tuxedos. Perhaps I would wear a pink gown, like the Princess in Pink one that Mia wears in the Princess Diaries series. It was way beautiful. I would have my hair swept back and up. My mom would be much happier than in the life I was thrown into. If in the Town of Do Over, I was this old, 29 years of age, I would be sitting on a sofa with two little kids on the floor playing with dolls. Then, my husband would walk in the door and say, “Beth, dinner is served!” He would hand me a burger, and then I’d say, what? You gave me a burger? Carrie, if I could grow old now, I would. But there are five people I want to see upon my departure from this cruel world. And they are:

  1. My cousin I’ve known since birth. Yes, Sarah, I’m talking about her. Carrie, in this current universe, I’d rather tell Sarah as I lie dying of old age, that I don’t care what she herself did or how her son got here. It would mean a lot if she at least have been there for the milestones. And I would tell her that no matter how far we were from each other, I would still think about her.
  2. My mom. No matter how many times she opened the door to mental Hell for me, I have to remember that it was not necessarily her fault that I was being carried by her. If she has to bury her daughter, then whatever. But if she’s not there, I have a plan so that a younger person could be at my bedside in her place.
  3. My old high school crush from years back. I know his mom threatened me with stuff, etc and I try to forget it, but as I lay dying as an old woman, I would say, “Orie, I’m sorry about the missed moments. You should have at least given me the time of day to talk, and please realize that I wanted something remotely normal in my broken life.”
  4. I don’t know who the fourth person is going to be. Depends on whether she’s here in this world, but I would love to see my old friends Bethany Cunningham and Bethany Mesko, both named Bethany so I must write out last names for differential purposes here. Mesko I would tell her if I could that I should have given her more attention, been there for her milestones, listened to her talk more. Whatever I say, I hope either of the Bethany women take it to heart. Cunningham was a friend in high school, and I would tell her to keep rocking on, she played so well, keep singing like the angels do. I would not be surprised if angels sang as I slowly faded.
  5. And last but certainly not least, I will not state the name of the last person, but I spoke to my friend about him. Jen has been there, and I regret this not being there for her. I personally wish that my last ex boyfriend would step up to the plate and be the last person at my bedside. Think of it this way, save the best for last. I would tell him that I never wore a wedding ring, never even did a wedding, had no child’s birthday or Xmas gift to buy, and for this, maybe I should at least be thankful I saved dough. But that’s not all. I was blesed to know who he was, and that he became the man I loved because God said it best. I would hold his hand, my hand being withered and old, and as my last breath was uttered and felt, as he hears me breathe my last, my dying words will probably be something like, “I love you and do not ever forget it. Take this …” I would hand him a valuable thing, and I would do something to honor him with, a plaque or engraved message on a little metal thing. I would struggle to hand it over, but when he reads it, he’ll fall over my bed crying and I’ll later say, “Do not cry, beloved, I will meet you in my hometown.” He won’t understand, but “my hometown” will be Heaven. And the first thing I want to hear when I’m finished breathing my last is your voice saying, “Hello, Beth, it’s Carrie. Would you like me to … Oh, you do look great!” Then, I’ll have wings and all that, and we’ll take each other’s hands, and together, we will fly away from this cruel and broken world. I will stay with you in the balcony of the palaces where Jesus would be sitting on his throne. I would humbly confess that my life should be a do over, and that I wished I would not hurt anyone. I wish I had done a better job of having tested people, let them realize how incredibly unhealthy their words and actions were and stuff. It’s punishment what happens on a daily basis. I currently hold a daily reminder of worthlessness and unmarriageability and nobody will sell me a piece of property, a house more like. I will spend my life in this little ghetto box. Carrie, please speak soft words to my friends who are currently mad at me, and please remind them that God is watching. Whether we believe in Big Brother or not, and no for Hell I do not, God is the ultimate judge of the truth. Did God put me on this Earth to hurt someone else? No. I think God’s purpose for me is something that none of my exes, family, friends, professional buttheads, people who think it’s okay to oppress others, all those perpetrators of abuse and discrimination, will never understand. I am done being abused, being pulled into triggers constantly and being told that “I want nothing to do with your affairs.” I’m seriously done. Please, Carrie, you have a power that I will never understand until the day I get there.

Carrie, one final note to you. While I’m in bed, I honestly dreamt of you one night. I had a harp in front of me, and seriously, you taught me to play it. It was after I was imprisoned in my own little room at my family’s home in Florida. Then all my friends left and abandoned me, knowing that I was a no good and worthless personality. They would joke about an obsessive and possessive woman that never was, call me names, call me a whore, etc. But then, in the dream, I was starved to death, maybe I was, I faded away. You and I were sitting in a larger room, the harps in front of us. We played those harps. Maybe the harps meant peace. Maybe now I understand the thing in the room. The person or people who were there. Carrie, honestly, it was you, sister. Why have I bothered to think so much about you? Honestly, I have had enough. It does not make any sense, I felt that I was priority number million and sadly, this is not fair to me. If the man who is currently upset at me wishes to place erotic interests above the needs of others, then guess I better think about running to your yard up there somewhere. Carrie, I miss you terribly, and regret with a heavy heart that you are not here. If I could do everything over again, I could but can’t. Carrie, I sometimes ask myself why oh why did this all happen to me in a day? What is really wrong is that permission is always a problem. I have to have permission to do everything. Frankly, I should not have gotten permission to exist. But then, you would’ve never touched me the way you did.

Carrie, my dear sister, you will always have a place at my table every occasion I have. But if you do speak to this man, I will seriously want to see you for real. I want to see you as a bright young woman with her angel wings. When you left us, Heaven gained a really beautiful seraphim. Please, do not forgetme. I love you.



Author: denverqueen

My name is Beth. I'm blind from birth and enjoy the blogging atmosphere. I am a creative person, a musician, a writer, etc. This is me. Take it or leave it.

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