A year ago, as we were slipping into the ancient time of traditions of spirit realms and the Earth moving through the cycle of death, I wrote a post about how I wished I could ask you things about my childhood, and how you came to me to tell me that there was a way to have those answers, in the form of journals you kept.
I felt it was a long shot that those journals would really hold anything.
But it turns out,
You were right.
This past summer, while going through the rest of your things, I came across several handwritten notebook journals. I threw them into the box I was going to send myself without really looking at them, mainly because it was such hard work that i wanted to just get through the task and be done with it, but also because I had to keep an eye on the kids during the summer and didn’t have a lot of time for this task.
So Grandpa mailed me the box, and it arrived about two months ago, and has been sitting under a coffee table in the living room since then, waiting for the moment to be unpacked.
This past weekend I was feeling down and dejected, and depleted, from starting work, and spent a lot of time just sitting around. But suddenly Sunday afternoon, I had the urge to open up the box and examine closely what I had chosen to keep.
And I came across your journals, and was amazed at what I found.
Not only did it have entire chronicles of your life during the eighties, the nineties and the aughts, but there was a journal dedicated to your medical history, one dedicated to the story of how you and Dad met, and most amazing of all
There was a journal all about me. With all my medical history. The first entry was on my first birthday, and the last was the day after I graduated high school.
You had just listed facts about my milestones, what I was doing at different times, how my eating and sleeping habits were, my napping habits, etc. You only wrote in it about three or four times a year, with concise facts, but there were the answers about my childhood. Including potty training, which I’d wondered about. It was right there.
So I have a place to ask questions now, through my children’s childhoods. I have a reference that I can refer to at different stages, to see how I was during that time.
I can’t even begin to express what an amazing gift this is.
And it makes me realize that I have not been nearly as good as you about journaling my children’s milestones. I mean, I can’t say that I’ve done nothing at all. There have been long gaps, but granted, I did start this blog when Son was two weeks old, and managed to write some things down. Not everything, but maybe enough.
So, this has motivated me to up my ante and leave this gift for my children as well. Who knows if I’ll be lucky enough to be around when they have grandchildren ?
But if they need answers to their questions, then I will at least have something to give them.
The other thing, Mom, is that your journals about your own life are much more eloquent and less rant-y than my private journal entries tend to be. My own journal entries are just stream of thought, letting out the garbage. You wrote about events, adding how they made you feel. Now, granted, I have not read your journals, except to skim them for my name to clarify some events that have come back to me recently. But I still don’t know if it’s my place to read them, because you aren’t here to talk about them. Perhaps my children may be interested in them one day, who knows.
But at least now I do have this way of asking your questions, and you have a way of giving me the answers.
Perhaps you always knew how imporant this journals would be.
I thank you for taking the time, over the course of thirty-five years, to write out your life.
I hope that I can match what you have accomplished.
Love, your Daughter