Poetry, Short Stories, and Spontaneous Thoughts

Gradually, as I sift through boxes and boxes and boxes of my life, I have begun to type all my poetry, short stories, and journal entries into a digital format. You know how it is — all your Christmas and birthday cards go into a box, along with love letters, poetry, school projects and papers, and some old crinkly photographs here and there. All of these things, along with trinkets, doodads, keepsakes, and even old jewelry comprise those elements from my past that have been collected along each life path I have chosen — and sometimes was forced to take — and these things are certainly proof of my life, that I existed, and that I have so much to tell the world.

I found a love letter from my “first kiss” from the fifth grade, love letters to and  from my first husband who was my high school sweetheart and father of my four children, and a few letters from lovers, friends, and family members. I have stockpiled tons of old college papers that merit (what I feel is) some type of recognition, or otherwise just cannot manage to throw out because in reading them I in some way impressed myself. All these things are my memories. While some private memories shall always remain close to my heart and not for public viewing, many memories and examples of my creative thought processes comprise my life story. I want to preserve them for my great-great-grandchildren. I should have started this blog a long time ago.

My beloved son of only 23 tender years committed suicide less than a month ago. I believed that I had more time to talk to him, to grow closer to him, to lend him my experience and wisdom. And now, as tears stream down my face, I acknowledge that my hesitation means that he will never know these things on this earthly plane of existence. But, I have three beautiful adult girls who yearn to hear my stories, to hear them from a more adult perspective, and hopefully to learn so that they may incorporate my wisdom and experience into their knowledge base.

In a manner of speaking, this blog is in honor of my dead son. And it is certainly in honor of my living daughters and grandchildren. Perhaps through knowing my stories, they will advance successfully in a life full of love, laughter, hopes, and dreams that all come true.

This blog is for you, Michael. I love you, son. I love you forever.

— Mommy