Tag Archives: children

It’s been a while I know

Not that the blogosphere cares one way or the other if I, one little minuscule person in the grander scheme of things, posts on my blog or not, but I’ve been so busy writing, posting on my writer blog that I’d forgotten about my personal blog until I saw a comment that I needed to approve show up in my email. Whoa! Damn, has it been that long since I posted on my other blog?…I asked myself, and the answer was–I couldn’t remember the last time I posted anything to this one, which made me feel guilty as hell.

I’ve often wondered if I ought to combine the two blogs into one blog with different pages: one page for the personal stuff and one page for the writing stuff… Hmmm. something to think about in the new year. Maybe when I finally decide to purchase my own site I’ll do that. Then I’ll have to come up with a whole new name, one that encompasses both.

So what has been going on? It’s a whole new year first of all. Can you believe it’s already 2015? I can’t. The time just passes by way to quickly–What happened to the time? seems to be a reoccurring theme in my life since I hit 30+, and now that I’m 40+ it’s worse.

I got a new hairdo. End of 2014 034

Mr. Rockstar has been busy with his new job. And I’ve been going out with him most of the time when he has to go out Over the Road. We’ve been to places like West Virginia, Ohio, Maryland, Virginia, Georgia, North Carolina, Kentucky, Alabama…I have such a good time when I go out OTR with him, and I usually get a lot of writing done.

Speaking of writing, I’ve been writing. And I won NaNoWriMo back in November.

I’ve been working on lots of DIY projects around our house.

I’ve also been vlogging (if you check out my other blog you’ll see some of the videos there.), which is completely new to me. I started vlogging for NaNoWriMo and have stuck with it thus far. It’s been great. I’ve met so many writer friends. 😀

The Little Man and Mr. Rockstar in the Big Truck...

The Little Man and Mr. Rockstar in the Big Truck…

My grandson turns 2 1/2 on the 15th of this month…He is so absolutely adorable. I love that kid more and more… so much it makes my heart feel like it’s going to burst in my chest, and I’m just so proud of my daughter–she is one hell of a mom. And she’s doing well in college, and now has a part-time job. not to mention the fact that she’s a great daughter and person. I am one proud Mom!

As a Mom it’s such a joy when your children grow up and become more than just your child but your friend as well. And my daughter is one of my best friends and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Just like with my husband, Mr. Rockstar, he is truly one of my best friends–he would tell you the same about me. I think that’s one of the reasons we have such a wonderful, happy marriage.

I’ve also been busy because my cousin L who was in my wedding is getting married and I’m going to be her matron of honor. I already have my dress. I love the color scheme she chose. Dark blue (midnight blue) and silver (mercury).

Matron of Honor Dress...

Matron of Honor Dress…

My hair is cut now, so it’ looks different, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to wear it up for her wedding, but I absolutely love my dress. We got to choose our dress. It had to be one of two materials, basically, and they all have to be same color, but the choice of dress was up to us. I chose this one, and since I’m the oldest person in the wedding I thought it suited me best–didn’t want to get something that was too young looking or too old looking…

Now it’s time for me to start working on her bachelorette party stuff, and her bridal shower stuff. What to do, what to do? Hmmm. 24 hours of girl stuff… Hmmm! Mani and Pedi, hair, drinks, that kind of thing–at least for the two of us. I’m going to treat her to a “girls day,” but for all of us girls what??? My mind is making internal lists as I type. A stripper just isn’t her thing I don’t think, so I’ve got to come up with something else fun.

And on that note, since I now have a mental image of Mark Wahlberg and Channing Tatum in my mind I’m going to go. Hope everyone had a great New Years Eve and Happy New Year!

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Posted by on January 1, 2015 in around here, life


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Am I my own worst critic?

Writing is magic stephen king

Earlier tonight I was asking Mr. Rockstar about hobbies. My protagonist’s love interest is a mechanic who co-owns a garage with his father. He’s 25, has been a widow for a year (his wife was murdered during a break-in when he was at work), and he’s, well, this manly guy who’s a bit of rebel since his wife died. Prior to his wife’s death he was social but somewhat shy. He’s a hands on kind of guy who is restoring his 1966 Chevelle and has a 1970 Harley (which he rides at extremely high speeds on nights he can’t sleep because he can’t get the picture of his dead wife out of his head). Since I’m not a guy, though I grew up with a brother and a shit-ton of male cousins, I wanted a guy’s perspective. My son who is 24 and is at the stage where he knows everything, and since he plays those RPG’s knows everything about character tropes jumps in with: That’s so cliche!….the name of your character is Midnight–you can’t get more cliche!….” (Insert more sarcastic criticism about my characters, my character’s names and hobbies, and even the town’s name, etc) and by this time I’m literally shaking I’m so frustrated, hurt, and disappointed.

Don't officially know it all

My husband, wonderful soul that he is just shuts up completely, since he won’t talk over my son and it’s evident that my son is going to have his say no matter how awful he sounds (though to him it’s just being honest), and I’m ready to just get up from my computer and say FUCK IT! Forget it! Ironically enough, I’m a good enough writer that last night he all but begged me to help him write his paper for English (he’s in college) and when I refused and told him I’d give him ideas for filler but I wouldn’t write it for him, he pouted in his sarcastic way…but still gave me the story, one of Poe’s, and asked if I’d write down a few ideas about symbolism while he was in the shower. Now this was last night. So tonight when I’m at the desk and his tirade about my novel becomes heated and he’s being overly critical and not in a constructive manner it takes me a while to realize he’s upset with me. Angry that I wouldn’t help him write his paper=write it for him. (I won a journalism scholarship when I was in high school; I’ve had a few poems and short stories published; I was an English major in college (though I haven’t finished my degree)…I know my writing “ain’t half bad.”

exceed the limits of my medication

But when he finally went to his room I was left sitting at my desk wondering what the hell happened. My son was being an asshat. My husband just shut down. I was near tears. I got up, got some tissue, blew my nose and wiped the tears from my face (by then I was crying) and went to my room. I curled up on my side of the bed and thought about what my son said. Was my character’s name really that cliche? Aren’t there names in real live that are weird, cliche, etc? I worked with a woman named Cherri Sherry, I went to school with a girl named Mary Wilson; hell my maiden name and my ex-husband’s last name were the same damn name just spelled differently because one was from Spain and one was from Scotland. You can’t really hyphenate Burgess-Burgos. Dean Koontz has a whole series about a guy named Odd Thomas. But I still criticized myself. I still doubted my writing skills, my writing ability, my talent, and then my dream.

Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent

I’m finally with someone who believes in me, supports me, loves that I am creative (even the fact that with that comes ADHD, clutter (though I like to call it creative clutter), piles of scrapbook stuff in one corner, a whole wall in our dining room that has been turned into a makeshift office for me is one big inspiration board for my creative pursuits. Our dining room table and stools are in our shed, time that I could be spending with him is oftentimes spent in front of the computer researching stuff for my book, writing, organizing things for my book, etc. And with CAMPNANO coming up April will be worse. I’ve been outlining my story, have written the prologue and the first chapter, and gotten things together in OneNote, which I absolutely love! I’ve bought extra ink cartridges and paper, and am about to get a few more odds and ends (like more pens, sticky notes, snacks, tacks for the corkboard, and extra coffee and coffee supplies).

My Creative/Workspace...

My Creative/Workspace…

Anywho, so Mr. Rockstar comes in and asks what’s wrong. I’m crying and he’s overly sensitive about anything that upsets me. I tell him, between wiping my nose and the tears off my face. I explain that maybe my character’s name is cliche. Maybe I am wasting my time. Maybe I’m not good enough. Maybe the EX was write and I’m not talented enough to ever have my work published and get paid for it. He married a loser. I’m…And he stops me! He tells me that he loves that I’m creative and talented. He loves that I am pursuing my dream. He loves that I’m a bit of a rambler…the whole bicycle, hat, run, look, squirrel…ADHD thing. He loves that I share my creativity with him. I use my creativity to make him handmade presents and presents for others. He loves that I’m humble about it. He loves that I can take a picture, a short poem I wrote, a few odds and ends from Michael’s and a picture frame and make him one of the best presents he’s ever had. He loves that I take the time to think about what would individually make a statement that shows I care and love someone and create a gift out of it.

The present I made Mr. Rockstar for our 6th month anniversary present.

The present I made Mr. Rockstar for our 6th month anniversary present.

He doesn’t really like to read very much–some things. He’d more into music. His creativity and talent are in his voice and his guitar playing. So when he read the prologue and the first chapter and really got into it and wanted to know what happened next he knew I was talented. He knew I was on the right path….He said, “It’s your book. Your character. You can name her whatever the fuck you want. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He wants to talk to my son. I want to talk to my son. But I know my son, he’s a lot like me, and talking to him about while either of us is upset (angry, frustrated, etc) won’t accomplish much except to put him on the defensive which will equal more sarcastic know it all attitude. (Oh to be young and know everything again.)

don't assume to know it all

And my husband is right: It is my book, my character, and I CAN name her whatever I want. Whatever name feels like it belongs to the character. And if that name happens to be Midnight Blue and sounds a bit cliche than I guess it’ll sound a bit cliche. But for right now, that’s her name! And as for my son, I’ll talk to him after he’s finished his paper and isn’t stressed out and is over being angry because I wouldn’t “help him write it,” and when I do I’ll let him know that I’m up for constructive criticism, but in the end it’s my book and I’ll get enough criticism later on down the road. Oddly enough, he’s helped me with stuff for the novel quite a bit, but my son’s natural inclination is the path of “Know-it-all.” He’s super smart, extremely high IQ, an almost photographic memory, but the boy lacks manners and common sense. I’ve tried my best to teach him, and I know that inside of his sarcastic arrogant exterior lies the heart of a sensitive and caring person, but sometimes he needs to learn when to stop talking or to not say anything at all.

if you understand everything you must be misinformed

And then there’s that golden rule, well actually two of them: If you don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all, and sometimes it’s not what you say but how you say it. He’ll learn eventually. So for now I’m going to continue working on my novel “Midnight Blue.” And I’m giving myself a much needed pat on the back for pursuing my dream.

Snoopy There he is writing again Snoopy He wanted applause


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Bedtime Stories

The Chronicles of Narnia

The Chronicles of Narnia (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Cover of "Bedtime Stories (Plus Standard ...

Cover via Amazon

When I was young my grandfather B. would tell me the best bedtime stories about faeries and good witches and there was my favorite–It started out with Princess Lissa, who eventually became Queen, and she ruled her lands with kindness, generosity, humor, and respect for all. She was a feisty lass who had the tongue of a sailor and could cut you down just as easily as she complimented you with a smile but she was fair of heart and mind, as well as face.

I remember those stories well. Sometimes he’d include my younger brother, prince James (Jimmy), and sometimes he’d include my father (who’d passed away when I was 7), and he always made my mom the High Queen with Heart (his name for her). My grandfather spent a great deal of time with us even before my father passed away, but my father was his oldest and I think spending time with us gave him comfort and made him smile so he spent even more time with us after my father passed.

When I was 9 years old, he was watching us while my mom and (step)dad were out of town. The school called and told him that I was running a fever and needed to be picked up from school. When he picked me up he knew how serious it was and immediately took me to the DR. The DR said I had the chicken pox, and a bad case of it, but I’d already had the chicken pox when I was 8 or 9 months old so when my grandfather talked to my mother over the phone and explained what was wrong with me she said, “But she can’t have the chicken pox. She’s already had it.” My grandfather’s response was, “Well, the Doc says it is, and from what I can tell it is, so I guess you can get it more than one time.” And you can, it’s rare but you can.

He nursed me back to health. Covering me with Calamine lotion, feeding me hot chocolate with marshmallows, soup, orange juice, his infamous flapjacks, or hot tea. And I was lucky enough to hear lots of his stories while I was couch or bed ridden. He surprised me with a story from his childhood, one his mother told him when he was growing up. The Selkie (Seal) Hunter. There was a man who lived in a home near the shore. He had a wife and babes and he provided for them as best he could. One day while out hunting he came across a big bull selkie and stabbed it with his knife. But he didn’t kill it. The bull selkie swam deep into the water and got away. Later on, the Selkie Hunter had a visitor come to call at his home. The young gentleman rode a fine horse, and asked the Selkie Hunter for his help. They went to the edge of a cliff and the young gentleman pushed the Hunter off the cliff but instead of dying the Hunter could breathe in the water and swim and when he looked at the young gentleman he’d turned into a Selkie. The Selkie showed him the knife and asked him if he recognized it, and the Hunter did–it was the same knife that he’d lost when he’d tried to kill the big bull Selkie. The young gentleman, who was now a Selkie, told the Hunter that the Bull Selkie was his father and the only person who could save his father was him. He’d wounded him and he’d have to heal him. The Hunter said he’d try, that he wasn’t much good at healing. The Hunter healed the Bull Selkie and the young gentle had the Hunter promise never to harm another Selkie again, and the Hunter did so–he wanted to get back to his wife and babes. But the Hunter had no idea of how he’d feed his family if he didn’t hunt. The young gentleman handed the Hunter a bag of gold and told him that the Selkies would never deprive an honest man of his livelihood…

There was another about a Faerie Queen and True Thomas, but I’ll share that one another day.

Cover of "The Giver"

Cover of The Giver

What I remember most about the bedtime stories, which I later on shared with my children, only in the story I told my daughter instead of Princess Lissa or Queen Lissa it was Princess Ria (my daughter’s name is Maria), was the feeling of safety, security, love, and comfort I got when my grandfather told me stories. Whether he made them up or they were fables from his childhood or stories from books. I just liked the sound of his voice and the attention he showed me.

(Don’t get me wrong, my mom often read stories to us, as well, but my grandfather B. died 10 years after my father died–I was 17 when he died so those memories are very special to me.) I’m an avid reader, and so are both my children. And my grandson has been read to since he was in the womb, like my children were. I’m also an avid story teller. I love to tell them, write them, listen to them. I think those bedtime stories helped increase my imagination and opened my mind and heart towards the land of words.

My favorite book was actually a collection of books by C.S. Lewis…The Chronicles of Narnia, which I still love. However, it wasn’t really any one book that influenced me, it was where reading took me, the adventure, the hope and joy I got from reading the pages. When I was ten I became an avid fan of Stephen King because of “Salem’s Lot,” but I still read other books. I read the Nancy Drew series, Treasure Island, Black Beauty, Of Mice and Men, To Kill a Mockingbird, George Orwell’s 1984 (which I read in 1984 when I was in high school), The Gift, The Giver, The Adventure’s of Huck Finn, A Picture of Dorian Gray, Gulliver’s Travels….. I could go on and on. But it was never just one book, except for maybe the Chronicles of Narnia and then Stephen King’s book Salem’s Lot. I was about 8 when I began reading the Chronicles and I needed to escape the pain that I felt over my father’s death and the world of Narnia gave me an outlet that was healthy. To this day, I can’t help but want to buy a new copy of it every time I see a different version of it. I read it about once a year.

Daily Prompt: Bedtime Stories What was your favorite book as a child? Did it influence the person you are now?


Posted by on March 21, 2013 in books, children, DPChallenge, family, Growing up, Happiness, home


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I got up this morning with Mr. Rockstar and made coffee. I made his lunch while I waited for the coffee to finish brewing. So far my morning is going well.Hope yours is also. Happy Tuesday!

Daily Prompt: Erasure

by michelle w. on March 12, 2013

You have the choice to erase one incident from your past, as though it never happened. What would you erase and why?

One incident gone from my past as it if never happened…Hmmm! As I sit here thinking of just one incident I’m not sure I can because they are all part of the whole. If I changed one thing wouldn’t it change everything? If I changed one thing then it might mean that I wouldn’t have met Mr. Rockstar. I wouldn’t have had my children. I wouldn’t have…OH WAIT, I can’t talk about that on the internet, lol!

So let’s just say that I can erase one thing and it not erase or affect all of  the good things. What one thing? Truth is, every time I think of one thing I’d erase I realize how it might have affected my life now. If I hadn’t made that mistake I wouldn’t have learned that particular lesson. Most lessons are valuable ones. Sure I’ve made some mistakes. Some were doozies, but overall I’ve learned from all of my mistakes. But for the sake of the prompt I’m going to say I’d have spent more time with my children when they were young. More quality time. I’d have stopped what I was doing, like the dishes or cleaning or whatever, and sat down with them. I’d have played with them more. Taken them to the park or the playground more. I’d have spent more quality time with them. I’d have told them I loved them more. I’d have told them I was proud of them more. Now they are grown, and I can’t get their childhood back.


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Fantasy or Reality, Childhood Tales


Daily Prompt: Fantasy The Tooth Fairy (or Easter Bunny, or Santa Claus . . .): a fun and harmless fiction, or a pointless justification for lying to children?

As a grandmother now, I find myself looking at things a little differently than when I was just the parent. I’m not sure if it’s because I was a single parent and try as I might to raise my children the way I wanted to raise them I ended up overly influenced by my own parents and grandparents. That’s the way it goes though. When we’re young we promise ourselves, “I won’t do that to my child,” or “I swear I’ll never say that to my child,” but we often end up doing just that. I did it. I didn’t want to do it, I railed my fists against the wall trying not to do it, but eventually I found myself doing just what I said I wouldn’t do. Not with everything, but with some things. Before you have a child you don’t fully understand, but once you do things change. Your perspective changes, your values become deeper, your own thoughts and opinions about things before said child become questioned and you realize that sometimes just because things have been done a certain way doesn’t mean that is the right way.

mom's fav sayings

My daughter is breastfeeding my grandson. I tried with my daughter but wasn’t able to for more than about 5 weeks. My grandson is a healthy, happy little boy who has not been sick yet. Yet people told asked her quite often why she was breastfeeding? And now they are asking her why she really doesn’t want to use jarred baby food and instead wants to make her own. I’m proud of her. She’s doing things not out of tradition but she’s actually thinking about what is best for her child. Some traditions she’s keeping, other’s she’s thrown out the window. We haven’t talked about Santa, or the Tooth Fairy, or the Easter Bunny yet. I have no idea of whether she’ll stick with tradition or not, and as I think about the prompt I find myself wondering if maybe the traditions haven’t evolved into what they are but should be more about what they originally were.

Centuries ago in Europe the tooth fairy tradition was quite different. When a child lost a tooth it was buried in the ground so that a new tooth would grow in its place. The reason the tooth was buried in the ground was due to superstition–so a witch wouldn’t/couldn’t get the tooth and place a curse on the child. When people migrated from farms or small towns into cities they would bury the tooth in a potted plant or something else. Eventually it began to be put under the pillow and a coin or candy would be left. The tale of the tooth fairy became an explanation and the tooth fairy tale was born. (Found at: )

I know about some of the history of Santa Clause. St Nick or St Nicholas was a priest who gave gifts to children and he gave them late at night. I believe it was in Asia Minor.  He didn’t want to be seen giving the gifts and told the children that in order to get the gifts they needed to be asleep. St. Nicholas became a bishop, and eventually became the saint of children.

Now the Easter Bunny I looked up, like I did with the tooth fairy, and it was originally a pagan festival. the festival Eastre. Christian converts came and decided it would be better to convert the “pagans” slowly. Funny, how that works. Eventually the holidays of the Christians and the Pagans were merged and you can check it out here:

I think that telling children the truth with a touch of imagination/fantasy is probably the best option. What is Christmas? Why do we celebrate it? What are your family traditions? I told my children the real story of St. Nicholas. I told them about Santa Clause. I also told them about Jesus’ birth. We lit a candle ever Christmas Eve in celebration of Jesus’ birth. I think that telling children blatant lies is wrong. Children are much smarter than we give them credit for. But letting them, prompting them, to use their imaginations isn’t wrong. There’s a fine line between out right lying to them and letting them use their imaginations. Tell them the truth and give them the tools to use their imaginations and you’ll be surprised, I think .At least I was. My son knew what gravity was and understood it at 5 years old, and he knew that the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, and Santa Clause were us (me, my mom and dad), instead of thinking we were liars he chose to believe that his Papa (my dad) who has a beard and looks a lot like Santa Clause was actually his very own personal Santa Clause. How’s that for truth and fantasy blended together?


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DP Back to the Future

Daily Prompt: Back to the Future

 A service has been invented through which you can send messages to people in the future. To whom would you send something, and what would you write?

I have a husband, a son, a daughter, a step-daughter, and a grandson. I’d want to write a letter to all of them, and to any future grandchildren I might have. Do I have to choose one person? I think I don’t. I think since it’s my post, and my letter I will write each one at least a short letter.

Dear Mr. Rockstar,

(Don’t freak out, I’ve sent this letter from the past.) It’s the year 2013 and there are a few things I’d like the future you to know. I love you. You are the love of my life. You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been. Before you, I’d almost lost all hope of ever having love, not that I didn’t believe it existed but I didn’t believe it existed for me. And then we met. When we took our vows we took them forever and always, not just until death. I meant that. And you’ll be my love forever and always. But if I’m not around, I don’t want you to wallow in grief. I don’t want you to shut people out and become a hermit. Nor do I want you to be alone for the rest of your life. Spend time with the kids, the grandkid, and your family. Spend time with friends. Play the guitar and sing. Be good to yourself. Be happy. Live your life to the fullest, even if I’m not there to share it with. And remember, the next go round maybe we’ll find each other sooner. But I want you live the best life you can while you have it. You ROCK and I’m so glad that we met and I’ll be here when you get here.

Forever and Always,

Dear Doug and Maria,

From the moment of your birth, though it was a close call with Doug, I’ve been so proud and so happy. I want both of you to remember that life is what you make it. As difficult as life can be sometimes, it’s the simple things that matter. I made mistakes as a parent, as a person…But that’s what life is about: living and learning. I’d have spent more quality time with you, I’d have spent less time worrying about other things and more time enjoying each and every moment with you. I’d have taken you on vacations and I’d have gotten on the slide and swings more often. I can’t change that now, but I can tell you a few things that might help you in the future and as parents or just as individuals.

Live life to the fullest. Life is made of moments, and it is the moments that make the difference. Remember to find joy in the small things and to appreciate those simple things. When someone makes you smile, laugh, think…enjoy that moment and appreciate it. Appreciate the people in your life who make you smile, laugh, and think. They are important, you’ll need to keep them around. Don’t take anything for granted. Remember that regardless of what happens in your life you are strong enough to handle it, even if it doesn’t feel like you are. And remember that being brave doesn’t mean being stupid. Stand up for yourself but don’t trample over anyone else.

Being a single parent is the toughest job there is, and no one is perfect, but it’s possible, especially if you have support like family and friends. If you have children, and Maria you already do, remember that no matter what they come first. But in order to be a good parent, especially when you’re doing it alone, it’s important that you’re a happy and healthy person too. You can’t take care of anyone else if you’re not able to take care of yourself. Be good to yourself not just your kids. And remember that they are your kids while they are kids, you’re the parent, later once they are grown you can be their friend. It’s sometimes difficult to not cave in when they have that pouty puppy dog face and crocodile tears streaming down their faces but be consistent, patient, brave, and loving. Temper discipline with love.

Most of all, be happy. Life is too short not to be. Let go of the past, and move on. Don’t hold grudges, they keep that negativity brewing inside of you and it makes it harder to be truly happy. And remember, I love you. I’ve loved you from before you were out here in the world, when you were growing inside me, until the moment I passed on from this life. You are my greatest accomplishments. You’re my pride and joy. And I am proud of both of you. Be the person you want to be. And hopefully, you’ll find a career that you love. You should live life not have life live you. Remember I love you!!!!



Dear K___,

When your dad and I met we were both a package deal. You are so sweet, pretty, smart, and kind. You’re a lot like your dad (laid back, patient, sweet, smart…) and he’s so proud of you. Remember that. You are his pride and joy. And I’m so proud to be your step-mom. You can do anything you want, be whatever you want. Do not limit yourself. But most of all be happy. Life is truly too short not to. I wish I’d gotten the chance to get to know you better, to spend more time with you. But I’d like for you to know that I love you. And I’m so glad that you’re a part of my life.



Dear Viktor (MeMe’s little man),

I cannot describe to you the joy that you’ve brought into my life. Your precious face makes me smile no matter what is going on. You are so beautiful, smart, humorous, and adorable. I could not be more proud. One day you’ll want to know things about me, about your mom and dad, about your grandfather, your great grandparents, and know this: people can research their ancestors, they can get the names and the where they came from when they died and when they were born, but what’s important can’t be gotten from research or from names. You come from a family filled with smart, crazy, loving, humorous, attractive, patient and impatient, brave, and kind people. I could tell you stories, and I will write a few more letters telling you about various people and things that happened, but the important things for you to know are simple:

Love, kindness, patience, compassion, affection, respect, honesty, trust, and courage. Those are the things that matter. Love and you will know love in return. Show kindness and it will be given back to you. Be patient and you won’t be disappointed as often or as stressed. Be compassionate towards others and towards yourself because none of us are perfect and we’re all going to need compassion. Show affection and appreciate when others are affectionate to you. Have respect for yourself and demand it of others and give others respect…the world definitely needs for people to be more respectful. Be honest with yourself and others. Without respect and honesty trust is impossible to build. And be courageous–don’t be afraid to try new things, or to meet new people, or to be open-minded.

When you’re not sure about something take the time to think about it. See what your guts tells you. If your guts says no, or isn’t sure then it probably isn’t a good thing. Remember to have patience with your mom. She’s an amazing and wonderful mom, and I’m so proud of her, but she’s human and she’ll need you to be patient with her at times. Tell her you love her. Tell her you’re proud of her. She’ll need to hear it just like you will. Remember that life is what you make it. You can be whatever you want, if you want to be a lawyer then go for it, or if you want to be a computer programmer, or an artist, or a doctor, or a truck driver. You can be whatever you want just make sure it’s something that makes you happy.

I might not be around when you get this letter, but I want you to know how very much I love you and very proud of you I am. You’ll always be my little man and I’ll always love you. Be good to your parents. Parents don’t last forever, we get old…or we die young. I love you, Viktor.




Posted by on March 1, 2013 in death, DPChallenge, family, friends, grandchild, home


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