When we cleaned out my mom’s house two years ago, we discovered a trove of letters that my dad wrote to her during WWII. We knew that they had carried on their courtship via letters during the war, but we knew little about their lives then. Mom would talk a little about her work during that time; Dad shared almost nothing about the war.

My sister took the letters to the archivist at the museum where she volunteers to find out how best to scan and preserve them. Her plan was to scan the letters and give a copy to all of us. But as so often happens, life gets in the way and the scanning project hasn’t happened yet. But this weekend I had the opportunity while visiting to read some of the letters.

I was only able to read about half, but I was by turns surprised and moved by what I read. I learned things about him I didn’t know and discovered where certain things I did know had their beginnings. As their child, whether young or grown, you don’t really know your parents’ relationship. You observe how they treat each other, maybe hear a few stories about their younger days or the good and bad times in their marriage, but you don’t know what was in their hearts or minds. These letters opened a window on my parents that was amazing. It shed light on aspects of their relationship that always puzzled me.

I was able to see in my Dad’s descriptions of what he loved most about my mother–her eyes that lit with laughter or devilment, her stubbornness, her willingness to take his teasing and give back her own–the aspects of her personality that we didn’t always appreciate as her children. And Dad’s stubbornness, teasing, and love of a good debate were on bold display in these letters. They were personality traits that when combined often caused discord in the family and we kids had to deal with the fallout.

I also got to see my father as a teenager–and saw myself and my oldest son reflected in his words. I could almost hear my son’s voice as I read the letters. And the cockiness, self-assurance, and bravado are all reflected in my journals at that age. I wonder if Dad would feel as embarrassed rereading his words in these letters as I do when I reread my journals from when I was 18-19 years old.

I wish I had been able to read everything during my visit, but there just wasn’t time. I got my sister fired up about the project again though. My sister said, “This is the best thing Dad left to us.” And because Mom kept them for all these years, it may be the best thing she leaves us as well.

What are you going to leave your children as a legacy?