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At the end of December, the Danish postal service will deliver its last letter, focusing on packages, citing the “increasing digitalisation” of society.
While the public will still be able to send letters through the distributor DAO, it made us think about how we would use that last chance to send a letter.
Many people responded to our callout asking what they would write in their last letter and why. Here is a selection.
‘I would write to my grandson to tell him how much he is loved’
My wife, Penny, and I moved to Reigate, Surrey, nearly two years ago to be nearer our grandson, Remy, now aged two-and-a-half, after living in Bristol for about 45 years. We look after him one day a week at his home in south-east London.
I would send my last postal letter to him and include a poem that I’ve already written for him, to try to express how much he means to me and to remind him, should he ever need reminding, that he is loved. It’s a cliche to say that children are the hope for the future, but the world seems a very dark place just now, and I realise it’s difficult to put into words what love means.
I’m a poet who’s written a number of more lighthearted poems about my grandson/for my grandson as he has learned first to walk and now talk, giving us so much joy in the process, but the one I would send in the letter is an attempt to pass on what small amount of wisdom I have managed to acquire in a lifetime of struggle and doubt.
I wanted it to be a message to him if I wasn’t around any more. In essence, it boils down to the need for kindness and a faith that gentleness is a form of strength. The poem harks back to a time before he had words, and includes the lines:
And if you miss me when I’m gone/Imagine I’m a robin in a tree,/Just like the one you pointed at today
Now he’s got lots of words and is a real chatterbox. Philip, 66, retired, Reigate
‘My last letter would close the loop of our archive of letters to each other’
I would address my last postal letter to my wife, Tryn. Tryn passed away on 1 May 2022, four months after our 55th wedding anniversary. Our four-year courtship during the 1960s took place primarily through hundreds of postal letters while I was at sea in the US Navy. My final postal letter will attempt to close the loop of our archive of handwritten love and gratitude.
It would begin by quoting our declarations of mutual love extracted from our saved archive of courting letters, reminding us what young love looked like, written on flimsy blue airmail stationery. We met at Villanova University, Pennsylvania, at a lunch place on campus. Tryn was studying nursing and I was a social studies student. She was very outgoing and smart, smarter than anybody in the room. We struck up a conversation and that was the start of a lovely relationship.
My final letter would remind us of our travels together, the births, trials and adventures of our five children, mature love, and our graduation to blessed grandparenthood. My letter would close with a selection from the last words of our earliest love letters, closing the circle of our life on earth together, thanking Tryn profusely, and quoting my song, Till We Meet Again, which I wrote after her passing. Chris Clark, 83, retired professor, Arizona, USA
‘I would thank mum for her letters, which filled me with happiness and love’
I moved to London in 1975 from rural Ireland when the only mode of communication was via letter, and it was all we could afford at the time.
I would send my last postal letter to my mother, Mary, who lives in Ireland. Born in 1933 and married at 17 to a farm labourer. They had eight children. My father left for London to earn money for the family. On Saturdays, the postman would deliver a letter to Mam with £5 a week to feed their growing family. We all waited eagerly for this letter. My mother wrote weekly letters to her sisters, her husband and all her children when we left home. It was a lifeline for us all. Then one day, the letters from my father stopped, and so did the money. She coped, but I don’t know how she did it.
Times changed, and people stopped writing letters, and I noticed how my mother would still walk to the front door on her Zimmer frame only to find a clutch of junk mail and bills. I would hear her let out a long sigh before she said “tsk tsk” in disappointment as she flicked through the rubbish. She is now in a care home and I write to her regularly. She doesn’t know who is writing to her most of the time, but she gets a buzz from receiving letters and cards. Annie, 68, retired, London
Dearest Mum,
This will be the last letter I can write as the Post Office will not be delivering any letters any more. As I wrote these words, I became overwhelmed with sadness, as I know how much you like to receive a letter or a card. In any case, I want you to know that all the letters and cards and money you posted to me over the years were well received. It was such a joy to see your little blue envelope arrive each week full of news from home, your beautiful small writing, and the birthday letter, always with cash.
When I left home at 18, your weekly letters helped me to get to know the sweet, loving side of your nature, which you could not express face-to-face. You hated being hugged, you could never write “love” or finish a letter with kisses, as your upbringing made it seem wrong. I remember once kissing you awkwardly on the top of your head – you recoiled like you had been stung by a bee.
We laughed about it, and I stopped hugging and kissing as you hated it. But your letters filled me with happiness and love as you found the time and the money to pay for postage to show how much you loved me by sharing your life week by week. So, goodbye for now, but know this – I feel that I am the luckiest person in the world to have a mother like you, who sacrificed everything so that we would all thrive.
Mother, you gave me life and kept me safe – I owe you a debt of gratitude and give thanks every single day for your unforgettable kindness.
Your loving daughter, Annie
‘Letter writing is so underrated’
I’m 66, so I am in the last quarter of my life. I have never had health issues and just recently have been in the hospital and began thinking about my life. It was helpful to write it all down in a letter.
I then wondered who I should send it to, and thought, well, it doesn’t need to be to anyone. I grew up writing letters, but it is so expensive to send them now, and people tend to respond by text, WhatsApp or a phone call. I say to them: ‘I don’t want to chat, can’t you write me a letter?’ Letter writing is so underrated. Dipak, 66, civil servant, London
A Letter to no one in particular
I fell in love more times than I can count – with people, with places, with moments that didn’t make sense until they were gone. I got things wrong. I took things too seriously, then not seriously enough. I laughed far too loudly in quiet rooms, and cried on the tube. I lived. Which is harder than it sounds. And now, in the spirit of Rabindranath Tagore, who once wrote to the people of the future while shackled by empire: I write not from oppression, but from observation.
From the quiet knowing that life is brief and beautifully absurd. If this somehow finds you long after I’m gone, I hope your world is softer. And I hope you, too, are choosing your life over the one prescribed to you. So here it is: I was here. I tried. I felt everything. And I left behind a whisper, just in case someone was listening. Thank God I read Trump’s obituary before I perished.
P.S. If you’re reading this in 2125, I am certain the District Line still has signal failures, and leaves on the track damage steel wheels…
‘I’d write to my teacher to thank him’
I would send my last letter to the teacher who gave me, when I was 18, the joys of intellectual inquiry, the one who showed me how to read deeply – not just to glean the surface meaning or intent. Dan O’Connell taught literature at Hobart College in New York state. When he spoke, an electric current ran through him; he was so charged with passion for ideas. That enthusiasm came across to me.
We kept in touch over the years and I saw him months before he died in 2023. He is always with me when I read great literature. Peter Pullman, 71, author, Pennsylvania, USA
Dear Dan: When I read, at some moment I put my finger in the book, turn around, and see you behind – encouraging me to go deeper. Thanks for staying over my shoulder.
I would write to my pen pal, Lucy, who lives in the States. We started writing to each other after meeting as kids in Southampton. I was about 12 and Lucy was probably 11, and we have kept in touch ever since. We met up a few times over the years when we were both living in the UK. Then Lucy moved to the US and I moved to Canada.
I recently moved back to the UK and I’d want my last letter to be to Lucy as a way to say goodbye to that way of communicating with them.
I would reflect on all the letters and postcards we’ve shared over the years and how much they meant to me. I would tell them how much I’ll miss reading their words in their own handwriting. I’d also include all the usual stuff – what I’d been up to, books I think they’d like, opinions on Doctor Who, maybe a few poems or drawings. I have a letter lying around that I wrote to them well over a decade ago and forgot to send, so I’d include that as well! Francis O’Sullivan, 30, musician, Bolton
‘I’d write to my girlfriend to tell her how special she is’
Dania, my girlfriend, lives in Mexico, and I’m in Texas. We met online, chatted for a year, met in person in July, and started dating in October. We visit each other once a month, and we’ve talked about writing letters to pass the time while apart and as a cute way to communicate “in vintage”. The postal system is a bit unreliable, but we are going to start writing letters after the holiday. They will be old-fashioned letters with vivid stories about how our lives are going, or even about a particular memory from a specific day. Taylor, 35, IT auditor, Texas
Dear Dania,
As I’m writing this letter, I’d usually talk about how I’m recalling a day in the life together or reflecting on how amazing life is together in general. However, I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge and share with you how truly special you are. From the first moment we began talking, to our first day holding hands, countless late nights, endless weekend and holiday trips, and so much more; you’re absolutely special in every way. Of all the things we’ve shared and experienced together, it is the quality time that has become most valuable. As I write this letter, I’m reflecting on all the memories and the future too.
Here’s to a special letter (for the most special person), ironically written via text, though written nevertheless. I sincerely hope the digital version of this letter reaches you with its everlasting warmth. Te amo, Taylor
‘Thank you for delivering my letters over the years’
Beth Wood was clear on who should receive her last letter: all the people who, over the years, had helped her send and receive hers. Beth Wood, 64, tutor, Bucks, UK
Dear posties,
Thank you for everything you have done for me during my lifetime. You have brought me so much joy and happiness. Delivering birthday cards, postcards and love letters from around the country and the world. You delivered my dole cheques, my job applications and my job offers.
All of you have been beloved members of the community, risking dog bites and grumpiness in the name of your service. Whatever the weather, you have beaten the trail. Thank you – we will miss you!
