What to Say When You Don’t Know What to Say
Gentle starting points for writing a letter to someone you’ve lost.
Sitting down to write a letter to someone who’s no longer in your life — whether through loss, distance, or the natural unraveling of a relationship — can feel overwhelming. Where do you even begin? How do you start a conversation that can’t continue in the usual way?
The truth is: there’s no right place to start.
And there’s definitely no wrong one.
But if you’re staring at the page and feel stuck, here are a few simple, honest ways to let the words begin.
Start with a moment.
Sometimes the easiest way in is to anchor yourself in something real.
Try opening with:
“I remember the time when…”
“I keep thinking about…”
“One moment that still stays with me is…”
Small memories often carry big meaning.
Let one lead you into the rest.
Start with a feeling.
You don’t need to name every emotion. Just one is enough.
Try:
“I’ve been feeling…”
“Lately, it hits me that…”
“I still find myself…”
Your letter doesn’t need to be polished. It just needs to be honest.
Start with what you wish could’ve been said.
Unspoken words have a way of lingering. This is your space to let them out.
Try:
“I wish I had told you…”
“I wish we had more time to…”
“I wish I understood why…”
Wishes aren’t about fixing the past — they’re about acknowledging the truth of it.
Start with gratitude (even if it’s complicated).
Sometimes love and grief sit right next to each other.
Try:
“Thank you for…”
“I’m grateful that we…”
“You taught me…”
Gratitude doesn’t have to erase the hard parts.
It simply honors what mattered.
Start with what’s changed since they’ve been gone.
Time moves, life shifts, and it can help to name that.
Try:
“Since you’ve been gone…”
“I wish you could see…”
“So much has changed, and I want to tell you…”
It’s okay if this brings up joy, sadness, anger, or all of the above.
Start with what still hurts.
You don’t need to solve it — just acknowledge it.
Try:
“It still hurts that…”
“I’m still trying to understand…”
“I’m still carrying…”
This isn’t about seeking answers.
It’s about giving yourself room to feel.
Start with something simple.
If all else fails, the simplest beginning is often the truest.
Try:
“I miss you.”
“I’m thinking of you.”
“I don’t really know how to start, but here I am.”
Sometimes the most honest letters begin with admitting the difficulty.
Your letter doesn’t have to be complete to be meaningful.
It doesn’t need to follow a structure.
It doesn’t need a perfect ending.
It doesn’t even need to make sense to anyone but you.
What matters is that you showed up to the page.
You let the words find you.
You allowed yourself to speak into a space where your feelings can finally land.
That’s enough.
To participate in The Posthumous Post Project, send your letters to:
[Name of Recipient]
P.O. Box 30061
6117 Campus Ln.
Cincinnati, OH 45230
This project is a creative space for personal reflection and is not a source of medical or mental health advice. If you’re struggling or in crisis, please reach out to 988 (U.S.) or your local emergency services. Read more in our disclaimer.
