"I did all the talking!"

We've just had a lively, lovely conversation and are saying our good-byes until next time. That's when it hits. She talked, I listened.

My job is to ask open-ended questions and let the client think aloud.

• What kind of neighborhood did you grow up in? 

• What kind of kid were you?

When I asked Bridget what kind of father her deceased husband was to their kids, she took a deep breath.

I've become very comfortable with the silent pauses. 

"Family members see each other at their best and when they're not at their best. Gary made a real effort to not be like his father, but we only have the first-hand models that we have."

Bridget's letter gave her a chance to explain Gary's complexities to her kids. 

Frank lives in a memory care residence. He's 84, has dementia and is delightful. He doesn't remember why we're having these conversations, but he's amenable. And when I asked about his father, he lights up.

"My father never said a word. Not a word. He spoke through his actions." 

At 91, Ann has a simple recipe for her ideal day. "The perfect day is when I wake up refreshed, get outside for some exercise and spend time with my husband."

Sounds like a lovely day. 

Then she said, "A perfect day is when I learn something -- about me or the people around me -- without judgement."

I had just finished reading Mitzi's letter to her. Pause. Then, "It's so warm and sounds just like me."

Pause. "But there's something that's not sitting right with me. Will you read it again?"

Where was I when my mother was packing up? 

My father had died. Ima had made the brave decision to move across the country. Now she just had to go through...an entire house!

Like most of our parents' homes, this one was filled with a lifetime of shared memories. 

My mother moved out to California about 9 years ago...two years after my father died. It was the right move. She and my father had actually wanted to move together. But that's another story.

The move made sense. And it was hard. Her life and the people in it were in New Jersey. 

But my mother, Irene, can be a rock when it matters most. She said, "I want to move while I'm active and can easily make friends."

Just before Gary died, his son recorded him talking about how he met and fell for his mom, Kate, 43 years ago. Gary had told this story many, many times over the years. It was always the same story.

But this final time, he changed the narrative. Kate was surprised and heartbroken. Since then, Kate has wanted to set the record straight, not just for future generations. She wanted to honor Gary, her beloved. Can you imagine how thrilled she was when her kids gifted Family Love Letters to her?

Trina didn't have the dream mother. Unlike Sean's mom, who was friendly and always had fresh baked cookies on hand, Trina's mother was distant and overly strict.

Once she forgive her mom, she focused on the takeaways.

"I learned from my mom how NOT to be.”

"Grandma began investing in the stock market in 1902. She'd park my mother's baby carriage outside the brokerage firm's window, and peer inside to watch the ticker tape."

Can't you picture it?

"Two guys and two girls got out (of the car) and starting walking towards us. I turned toward my friend and said, "I'm not sure I can play today. I think I have double vision!"

My friend said, "There ARE two of them."

One of the girls was Auntie Joyce and the other was your mom. Yes, TWINS!"

his story and image were etched in Len's brain. You should have heard the joy and amazement in his voice as he told me how he and his wife met.

Here's your parents' logic: If you wanted to know their stories, you'd ask. You're not asking, so you must not be interested.

This is really what they're thinking. But you are interested!

A 2005 study (by Allianz Life Insurance) surveyed 2,627 baby boomers and elders. For both groups, the non-financial pieces of their parents' legacy was 10 more important than finances and possessions.

On our third call, it was time to talk about Trina's kids. She gushed about two of them. But when it came to the third, there was a big sigh. "What can I say?"

Trina explained that her youngest had no patience with her and seemed jealous of her other kids. [Program Notification: Family Love Letters isn’t therapy. But it is therapeutic. Read on.]

I said, "OK. Take a step back. Are there any qualities that are you admire about him?"

Susan isn't a schlump and doesn't dress like one. But her sense of style is not what draws people -- of all ages -- to her.

Like most 83 year olds, she's got everyday challenges that she didn't have a few years ago. It would be so easy for her to complain and no one would blame her.

You want to know how your parents feel about hitting that big birthday number, but you resist asking. You don't want to bring them down.

Asking isn’t going to change how they’re feeling. And there's a real possibility they'll surprise you. 

"Turning 80 means I have lived the majority of my life." 

Uh-oh, where's this going?

"It's called work, dummy."

"It's not called work for nothing."

These sayings have been passed down through the generations. 

But when I ask my elder clients to look back on their work, there isn't a trace of cynicism.