Joy for what we have Archives

Light Shining in The Distance

Mar 2, 2021

Already March 2021… Last year on March 1st Gene and I were in Washington State. We had traveled to see our grandson Jake, play baseball at Central Washington University, and had a perfect weekend: a cozy romantic Air BNB complete with a rushing stream flowing past, fun dinners with Jake and his college pals and baseball game–watching in frigid freezing hurricane force winds. (well, that part wasn’t exactly perfect but it truly was a crazy time we will never forget) Heading home in our rental care we encountered beautiful blizzard-like snow on the freeways headed back towards Seattle airport and we were eager to get back to warm toasty San Diego where the sun was shining.

Little did we know that would be our last trip for an awfully long time and within two weeks we would be in lock down because an extremely scary virus invading our country. Would we have believed the world as we knew it was slowly shutting down with what would soon become the frightening speed of an avalanche? Like everyone else, I do not think we could have comprehended the magnitude of change that was in the works.

Life continued and like everyone else we stayed home, followed the guidelines to remain virus free and adjusted. We learned (maybe the hard way) that we had not always appreciated all the ‘givens’ in our lives. Just hopping on a plane and flying anywhere we wanted to. Hugging. Celebrating birthdays. Simply sharing meals with friends, classes, concerts, holiday gatherings…. oh how I missed the hugs, the face to face conversation with our children and not being able to fly and visit loved ones…. the list goes on.

I knew I would not take those wonderful ‘givens’ for granted ever again.

Despite the horrifying numbers of people dying and sick all over the world and the constant unsettling fear, despite the unrest and deplorable politics and violence raging around the country and regardless of so many mornings of awful news and saying out loud, “just when I thought it could not get worse…it is.” we all plowed on.

Gene created his spring summer garden, cared for the orchard, stayed busy with projects around our home and our acre of property. He even did most of the shopping that I did not do online, worried because of my underlying condition, asthma. We became the new human parents of a 7-week-old golden retriever puppy, our Layla Louise, and that little beauty took considerable energy and hours of our time. The perfect distraction. Like everyone in the world, I learned to Zoom and continued my classes and meetings virtually. The Memoir Association, where I am president took up many hours and kept me busy.

We were thankful we could maintain contact with our children and grandchildren virtually and the ones here locally stopped by for social distanced visits in masks outside on our patio. It was not the same, but we were thankful for that. Best of all a new (number 10) grandson was born during the COVID-19 year. Our little Arthur.

And then lo and behold, I finished my manuscript, a fifth (at least) draft of my book and submitted to a few agents and to a publisher that I had admired from a far. Last summer I received an email. She Writes Press was interested in my book! I was thrilled and scared to death at the same time, but mostly I must admit I was a bit ecstatic. Signing a contract with She Writes Press – Brooke Warner, was something I had dreamed about and it was coming true.

Right now, I am in the Spring 2022 cohort and my memoir, You’ll Forget This Ever Happened has a pub date of May 10, 2022!

Needless to say, that has kept me focused on the future and relieved so much of my COVID-19 fatigue. Gene and I have done this together. Without his continued support and belief in me, I wonder if I would have ever gotten this far with my story.

I hope this finds all of you feeling more hopeful and proud of the strong survivors that you are. I thank you for reading my words and for being a shining light for me. I hope I can be for you as well.

I feel there is light at the end of this long tunnel we have all traveled together. The grey clouds are lifting and let us look forward to a healthier world in more ways than one.

Until next time.

Laura

A Thankful Farewell To 2020 and Keeping the Faith in 2021

Dec 29, 2020

I will not say “what a year!” It sounds so cliché – so redundant now.

We exhaust ourselves saying it. We exhausted ourselves living it. But if you are reading this, we did live it, and we are thankfully still here to talk about it.

Instead, as we approach New Year’s Eve I will say “I have never been happier to see a year over with in my life!”

Even the worse years I have suffered did not include the world suffering along with me and although that fact made our lives so much harder, it did teach us, we are one, how insanely lucky and clueless we have been, and how quickly what we take for granted and love can screech to a halt.

This year cut our lives down to size. I hope our world has learned that lesson well.

Although the months of 2020 seemed to drag on like a continuous loop of Groundhog Days, when I look back at the months of little or no physical contact with our kids and friends, and the zapped creativity or motivation I suffered, I must admit, the year held beacons of light. For me it was not all COVID-19 related uncertainty and loss of what we considered normal. I, like so many of you, have experienced, despite the worry for our loved ones, some very wonderful things that happened along the way.

I do know for certain that I learned to appreciate all of you who stayed in my life and by my side and supported me in my writing during this time. You assured me my words were important and that my story deserved to be told. You kept me working on my book and ultimately finishing it. You are the ones who pushed me to submit my work and I did. What a scary thing that was for this new author – me.

After three years and 5 drafts I realized I had finished my book. I submitted it and sent out to a handful of manuscripts to Beta Readers (by the way they brightened my days with their reviews and critiques, and I am ever grateful). I had zoom conversations with editors, publishers and agents about my book summaries and they all instilled confidence in me. I submitted to a publisher I had admired from afar and this Fall I signed a publishing contract with that very publisher and Yes! my book will be published and available in the Spring of 2022.

What a journey and what a learning curve for me this writing has been. Many a day I shake my head and think how lucky can I be to have this sparkling new writing life after living all the other lives I have? And I marvel at the fact, it really is never too late.

During all of my book angst another amazing blessing occurred in our lives when our tenth grandchild arrived in the midst of summer, COVID-19 everywhere. Brand new baby Arthur! A reason to rejoice and to see life continuing in such a miraculous yet perfectly normal way. For all time, the universal hope for the future has been a new life.

Then yesterday I celebrated 40 years of marriage with my dear husband, Gene and although it was a quiet and simple celebration of just us two, it was glorious and just what it needed to be. My best gift of all is the health of Gene and myself along with our family’s steady well-being in such a year. That enough brings me tears of joy and whispers in my ear “keep the faith.”

So dear friends I thank all of you for reading my words for awaiting my book and with renewed and gracious heart I say farewell to a devil year and welcome with open arms a year that promises to have rejuvenated faith in our country and our world. Hope is tangible in the air and I take in great gulps of it.

My wish for you in 2021 is never-ending faith and hope, a renewed love of life, and of many family and friend gatherings once again with a celebration of a kinder, healthier world.

Laura L. Engel

Dec 2, 2020

Five Months In

May 22, 2020

Corona Virus.

When I first read the reports in January. I thought, what is a corona virus? It seemed so far away. I did my ‘go–to–reaction’ when something or some word left me uneasy or when that little red flag warning flickered inside my chest. My go to was a U-turn in my brain to think about something pleasant. Perhaps start reading a new book.

Besides, I was consumed with grief in Jan. My husband Gene and I were both morning the loss of our beloved 9-year-old Annabelle. Our golden girl. We had loved that dog so much and our grief was equal and all-encompassing to the love we had felt for her. I did not have time to worry about no virus. Plus we had had our flu shots.

Covid19.

In February, we were in Washington state, cold with frigid winds, when I became aware of the fact that Seattle was experiencing deaths from this covid19. I tried to turn off the flicker which grew a bit stronger in the almost empty airport as we headed back to San Diego with reports of the virus blasting from every gate.

I had other things to think about. We had been visiting our grandson at his university. It had taken our minds off our grief, softened the sadness of losing our dear dog. We had lots to do and renewed energy for when we returned home. I had sent my manuscript out to beta readers. The SD Writers Festival was coming up. Lots to do. No time to worry about no virus.

Corona Virus deaths.

That tiny flicker started growing – burning steady as March blew in. The statistics were not promising. At that time the virus seemed to target seniors. Gene and I are both in our 70s. I have asthma. “But it’s under control.” I say a loud. “But you have had some serious breathing issues in the past, and high blood pressure.” As always, my devoted Gene is worried out loud.

I try to change the subject. Change my thoughts. I watch the news and shake my head. What does this all mean? Shelter in place? Social distancing? Masks? No Masks? Hand sanitizers? Wash wash wash hands?

I reach out to my children. I repeat the precautions to my adult sons, shelter in place, social distance, masks, wash, wash, wash your hands. Depending on what part of the country they live in determines their concern for safety and what is going on in the country. Kansas, Louisiana… not as concerned. The sons here in California are most concerned and already starting to work from home and sheltering in place. The governor has asked all Californians to stay home, schools are closed, no events, no restaurants, no gatherings of more than 10.

The flicker expands in my chest.

News gets more frightening daily.

I try to do my ‘go to – buried head in the sand routine.’ I turn off the news and concentrate on my manuscript. Think positive. Think future. I tell myself. This too shall pass. To distract myself I start thinking up ideas for a baby shower in May for our 10th grandbaby, due in June. Work on next step now that I have completed my manuscript. Which publishers to send to? Our Writers Festival is postponed. Everything on Zoom now. Before covid19 I hardly knew what Zoom was. Our SDMWA meeting cancelled. Zoom. I cancel our Finches book club at my home. Zoom. Our classes are closed. Zoom. Zoom Zoom.

God who knew Zoom would be a lifesaver.

Ventilators. Covid19 cases doubling daily. Hospitals running out of beds, supplies. Mask shortage. Masks? No Masks? The stock market–crashed, crashed, crashed. Businesses folding. Unemployment staggering. Bad News. Scary News. There will be a vaccine. Soon? Not soon enough.

So much conflicting news. By the end of March, that flicker is ablaze. It never lightens up now.

I tell myself thank God all our family and friends are doing well. So far. So good. And we are too. We are still sheltering in place. We are extremely cautious. We are still smiling most days. It’s a good thing Gene and I like each. Together 24/7 after 43 years is a lot of togetherness for two independent people. We decide how insanely lucky we are. How our love for each other still magically colors our days. Pinch me.

Everything still shut down. Clamped down tighter than before. Healthcare providers call and cancel our April appts. You can Zoom your doctor if you absolutely must, they say. I have not left the house in a month. Gene, only for groceries, necessities, clad in mask, gloves, antibacterial wipes in hand. It’s as if I am sending my knight in shining armor out to do war.

That flicker is raging now. It is April. Life as we know it has screeched to a halt. News too terrifying to watch. In the still of the night as I listen to my husband’s light snoring, I reach for his hand. He half wakes and squeezes mine. We have lived a good life together, through rough patches, through glorious bright days. But, our children. Our grandchildren. What will their lives be like? Will this ever end? When will their lives be easy again? Will all changes be for the best? Is this the end?

Protests everywhere. Seems like half the country wants to escape out of their homes and resume life pre-covid19. There are confusing reports daily. We see a lot of complaining screamers, demanding their rights to return their ‘normal’ lives acting out like spoiled children, oblivious to scientist and brilliant medical experts. They want their beaches back, their bars, their hair salons, their lives and jobs. Who can blame them? But is it too soon? Is this really happening?

Mixed messages daily from an administration obviously not equipped to handle this crisis. ‘There may be a vaccine by end of year… there will not be a vaccine for a year.’ Social media is in overdrive. Many lament it is the end of the world, still many remain positive, their faces to the sun, refusing to fall victim to the negativity. The daily briefings make one’s head spin. One thing for sure, our economy, our world, travel, education, life as we know it has turned upside down. I have not left the house or yard in 2 months.

Mid May.

The flicker is steady, eased up, but there. People still dying. But the air is cleaner than it has been in decades. People are cooking more, walking their neighborhoods more. Maybe we are learning how important our connections with our loved ones really are to us now that we miss them daily. Country opening up. I watch with a let us see what happens next attitude. I remain cautious. Vigilant. There comes a time I settle and accept. There comes a time I look for the good. I calm myself at night when the worries of the future bring tears to my eyes and trembles in my body. I brace myself for what may happen, or what may not. I grieve for what was and that I didn’t even realize what we had. I tell myself I will learn from this, as will the whole world. Be brave I tell myself. This too shall pass.

I hold it together on this very different Mother’s Day. I get calls and texts, smiling facetimes from all six of our adult kids and few of the grandkids. I miss their hugs, touching their faces. I am grateful for any contact and for their health and happiness.

Gene and I enjoy our new puppy. I push myself to write, to go to my Zoom classes, meetings… I try not to hurt inside when I realize there will be no baby shower and I may not get to hold that new grandchild being born in June for who knows how long. I certainly will not be allowed at the hospital for his birth. I tell myself I will not permit myself to enter that road to self–pity. I chastise myself if I flirt with that road.

“Look how lucky you are? Look at the good.” Still, I worry about the virus.

I stare out the window. Spring is beautiful as ever. Maybe more so. And there is hope. There always is.

Laura L. Engel
May 2020

My 2019 Love Letter to You All

Dec 17, 2019

As the Holiday Season peaks and we rush head long into Christmas along with the closing of 2019 this is a love letter to all who have supported and cheered me on with my writing this year.

Many of you have asked so I wanted to let you know where I’m at with my memoir, You’ll Forget This Ever Happened.

While working on my book this year I experienced some thrilling moments, hours and weeks on end, but with it came hours and weeks of tragedy and loss. In the first half of the year two of my beloved girlfriends lost their husbands to cancer. That was especially hard to see them struggle and find their way after losing their greatest loves, their partners in life.

Within a month my best friend of over 60 years, my Nancy, died at 69 from cancer as well. She and all of us thought she had more time, but she had a swift decline and with that decline she took part of me with her. Just when I felt stronger after that incredibly hard loss, one of my baby brothers, Tommy passed away. He was 64. His death was not as much of a shock, because he had been in terrible health, but my heart split in two again.

Life has a way of handing out the hard times and then rewarding us with many blessings that sometimes we miss when those hard times consume us. I experienced this phenomenon all throughout the year.

As I reeled from the hurt and loss, I had to stop and realize that overall our family was well and healthy. Our 6 adult children, their spouses and partners were doing well in their careers and their children, our nine grands, were thriving as well. Our youngest son married the love of his life and now at the end of the year we learned the glorious news that we will be welcoming our 10^th grandchild next summer.

Many times during the year I pinched myself as I sat writing and rewriting my book as I realized how far we had all come over the years. I would look at my husband, Gene and think about our long and windy road of a marriage. We will celebrate our 39^th year of marriage next week and there is still no one on earth I would rather spend life with than him.

Good things happened with my continued path of writing my book. I was active in writing classes and served as President of the San Diego Memoir Association all year. I was fortunate enough to attend a first-class writing conference in Pennsylvania in July, attending a play lab, where I wrote a short skit about my story. I experienced Yale and New Haven, Conn. with a dear friend and my high school journalism teacher who I had not seen in 53 years that same month.

In April my author web site came alive. I found myself incredibly fortunate to be asked to do an interview with Dani Shapiro on her fantastic podcast, Family Secrets. Within weeks they hit over a million in listeners. If you haven’t listened to it, please do. https://www.familysecretspodcast.com/podcasts/the-secret-son.htm. Many of you have reached out to me during the year after hearing the podcast and I appreciate each and every one of your emails.

In June I won a place for the third year in a row in the San Diego Memoir Showcase contest, meaning a third publication under my belt in 2020. It was just as thrilling the third time to hear this news as the first time in 2017.

And all through the busy and eventful year I worked on my 3^rd draft of my book. I had it edited again and now I am in the process of finding beta readers for my book. I have revised, edited it until I cannot see straight and have good news, I am closer than ever to publishing.

And this is what I wanted to tell you most of all… that your continued interest and inspirational stories have kept me going. It is not easy writing a memoir, well writing anything that you plan to publish and share with others. Life gets in the way, procrastination looms, self doubt flourishes, yet you forge ahead.

I have plowed through so much research when I wasn’t sure how much to trust my memories from 52 years ago. 1967 was a long time ago! At times I found myself angry once more at the injustice in the way unwed mothers were treated at that time and how adoptions were handled. But the fact that my son is back in my life and we are connected in such a powerful way has softened that anger and frustration. I am truly striving to live in the moment and not the past as I spend hours writing about the past.

What are you doing for the holidays? I’d love to hear from you.

This Christmas will find us with our family here at our home in So Cal. As busy and chaotic as that gets is there anything better? Through laughter and tears over the years, there is one thing I know for sure. For me just hearing my grown children tell their stories of our past Christmases as they roar and watching my grandchildren grow, their eyes shiny and bright, and having my husband look over at me with love in his eyes, well… there is no better gift.

I wish all of you a lovely holiday spent in the exact way that you find the most joy and please know I am forever grateful to each and everyone of you who have signed up on my website, www.lauralengel.com.

Good health and cheer and here’s to a blessed and joyful 2020.

Warmly,

Laura L. Engel
Dec. 2019

Because we always think we have more time….

May 6, 2019

My dear childhood friend Nancy was admitted into hospice today.

Regrettably this isn’t news that surprised me. I knew cancer had attacked her lungs and brain and had become increasingly aggressive this year. We spoke as recently as last month about the extent of her cancer, her increasing weakness, her anxiety and fear. She waffled from optimistic and nervous during that two hour conversation. My stoic Nancy cried when she told me she had given her beloved pup to a neighbor because she could no longer care for her Pookie. That red flag alone told me more than any words my beloved friend could ever have said. Then I cried.

Stubbornly I continued to hold on to the hope treatment would fix her. The doctors said she might still have three years she explained. But she also complained of not being able to read any longer or enjoy the simple things we all take for granted. Still I chose to believe a miracle would happen.

It was a lifetime ago in Biloxi Mississippi in 1957, we were feisty eight year old girls, all elbows and knobby knees, walking home from school. Each of us lugging a clarinet case along with our book satchels. One of us, not sure which one now, made a snarky comment about the other’s clarinet case. I secretly envied her case. It was red and white, mine a drab brown leather. We started calling insults to each other and before she turned off towards her home we were close to blows.

I remember I was infuriated by that tall skinny girl with the red bouncy curls, her cute dress and her smart aleck ways. Didn’t like her at all, but I was covertly in awe of her gumption. Years later she told me she had been a bit intimidated by me, the short, serious girl with the dark wavy ponytail, her blue glasses perched atop her nose.

Not sure how but the next day walking home we began speaking civilly to each other and found a common bond, maybe a dislike for some other unfortunate classmate? Who knows? All I do know is that that day began a friendship that has stood the test of time in more ways than either one of those small girls could ever have imagined.

We became inseparable all through the school years. Countless sleep overs, hundreds of hours of phone calls, Sunday school, parties, trips and holidays filled our years. We grew up together from giggling over coloring books to ogling Seventeen magazine, from school text books to secreted copies of Lady Chatterly’s Lover that we read aloud to each other sprawled across Nancy’s bed. Oh how we marveled at the risqué graphic scenes. We grew up together from the Toni perms our mothers forced upon us to ironing the waves from our long hair, growing insanely long mod bangs that all but cover our mascara caked eyes.

Once at a Christmas Service we sang a duet, Oh Holy Night, in our church choir, oh what I would give for a video of that. We were in school plays together and shared a love of drama, show tunes and musicals. Together we grew up from girl scout camp out songs like Kumbaya to the Beatles and the Rolling Stones.

We discovered boys together, practiced hairstyles and makeup together, double dated the whole time we were in high school. Experienced alcohol for the first time together. Smoked our first forbidden cigarette together. Together with our third musketeer Julie, we experienced the excitement and the angst of those teenage years. We played Ouija board late at night and decided we had been sisters in our past lives or maybe we had been witches in Salem. Always the drama queens, that was us.

We even survived teenage pregnancies together. Nancy was one of very few people who knew about me giving my baby boy up for adoption. Later that same year Nancy married and gave birth to her own son. She stood with me as my maid of honor at my own ill fated first marriage to the wrong man. She and I both knew even then he was not the one for me. We both endured bad marriages and later divorces. Though I moved 2000 miles away, we flew back and forth to visit each other countless times over 50 years. Thousands of miles never keep us apart.

Years later when Nancy met the man who would be the love of my life, my Gene, she immediately loved him and said to me. This is the one for you. As always, she knew just what I needed.

Completely different lives and careers did not make a hill of beans. There was never a time we did not connect the minute we talked over the phone or when visiting. We discussed our husbands, or sons and our careers, always advising and instilling confidence. How many times she consoled me, how many times we saved each other I cannot count. Now my chest literally aches because I know there will be no more calls.

What a path our lives took us down. I could write a book about those intersected paths. In my memoir Nancy is an important character and in the process of writing I have realized even more so what a beacon of light she has been throughout my life.

Shane, Nancy’s incredibly kind son informed me that my dear Nancy stopped talking two weeks ago. She and I had tried to have a conversation over the phone, Shane holding her phone on speaker as she slurred words in a weak voice that wasn’t hers. Me, on the other end of the line, trying to be optimistic and upbeat and failing miserably. After our conversation, Shane tells me she completely stopped talking. To anyone.

They say our loved ones completes us. And I know this is true. I would not be who I am today without my friend, who never once failed me. Who taught me what a true friend is. Our history is long and full of joys as well as traumatic sadness and countless experiences. My gratitude for Nancy in my life encompasses me. Never once did I question my love for her or hers for me. Never ever.

Today is a special day…An Anniversary (A letter to Ray)

Feb 14, 2019

Was it only two short years ago that I received that email from you on the night of Oct 9, 2016? Or was it so very long ago that I received that email from you on the night of Oct 9, 2016?

In the cosmic scheme of time it seems like a blink of an eye, yet so much of life has happened in that short time, it is as if I have known you forever.

Time is funny like that. I missed you for 49 years. Some of those years were harder than others. Some I was so busy I could barely catch my breath. Some long and traumatic, some fast and furious. But always, I missed your face, your presence. I didn’t even know what your voice sounded like. Or what exactly your face looked like. What color was your hair? Your eyes? I ached to know.

I yearned to hug you, to hold you close, to wipe your nose, and wash your face. To hear you call me Mommy. To put a Band-Aid on your boo-boos, to sing you lullabies to watch you learn to ride a bike, fly a kite, kick a soccer ball, to teach you how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, to draw a cat. To take your photo on your first day of school, to argue with you about your school work, to feel sad when you stopped believing in Santa. To reassure you as we signed you up for sports teams, clubs, and fun events. To cry sad tears when I realized you were growing up. To worry when you learned to drive a car. To feel your pain when you had your first girlfriend break up with you. To go with you to order your first tux for Prom. To cry happy tears when you graduated from junior high school, high school, college. At your wedding. It was so hard. I missed all of that and more. They told me I would forget you, but I never did. I couldn’t even if I tried.

When you first emailed me and I was found, I was deliriously happy, amazingly fearful, and giddy with anticipation. Here was the son I thought I might never see…well, actually thought I would never see up close. It was too long of a stretch to really believe we could connect. Too painful to think you would reject me, hate me. I was convinced you were in Alabama somewhere oblivious to me, your life journey never to connect with mine. But always.. always.. there was that tiny flame that held on to the belief that we would meet.

Because of that flame I wrote in my journal and on my lists of things to do, ‘Find Jamie.’ Even as I wrote it, I wondered. Would I?

I gave it up to God. I was weary. God and the Universe might know something I didn’t know. I had to have faith. I had to know that something would happen someday and I even thought and prayed just let me know he is all right. That he has a good life and is healthy. Please just let me know that. Give me a sign.

Then one evening when you were not on my mind. I was tired. Weary of the Presidential Debate on the television. Eager to head to bed and read my book, I got that sign. Ping…an alert on my phone. An email from you! YOU. And you were all grown up, 49 years old with a new name that I would have never known. And still living in Louisiana, for God’s sake, why had I fantasized for all those long years you lived in Alabama?

Here you were. My boy. My first son. What did I ever do to be this blessed? I almost fell to my knees. I thanked God profusely through out the night. Scared but I knew I would face the fire and I would answer you, regardless of the outcome. I would welcome with open arms the son I had relinquished during the most difficult period of my life, if he would have me.

The son who I had mourned secretly and cried about alone to myself, for almost 50 years. If I had not believed in God’s goodness (I like to think I already did, but ..) This, THIS.. was proof positive.

The shame I had suffered, the loss of my baby, the anger and hurt I had hurled upon myself and my parents, all was snuffed out the first time I heard your voice. I was proud of you, with a mother’s pride that I did not even deserve to feel for you. I had done nothing to help you grow into the man you were. I was absent that whole time. But still I adored you from the first email and was full of pride for you from our first conversation.

Now two years have passed…some months went fast, some slow. We have been lucky enough to fly to see each other and I have come to you 4 times and you to see me and your new family twice. Seeing my sons together for the first time was one of most powerful joys of my life. Whoever would have believed this? It is incredibly beautiful.

I have gotten to know my amazing grand children along with you and your wife. Not once have I taken it for granted, how you all welcomed me with open arms. Was this possible? Am I not dreaming, I asked, because this is as akin to Heaven as I believe it must be.

We have learned so much about each other in these two years, but there is still a life time of things to learn about each other. Things have mellowed. You are busy with family, work, and I am now an extra branch to hang on your busy ever-growing tree of life. I accept that and am grateful for what we do have. I sometimes feel needy and admonish myself. I can’t ask for more. I am the luckiest Mom in the world and I count my blessings.

I used to think your life would not be good because I wasn’t there for you. Such a conceited thought I guess, but I am being honest. I thought that because you were missing in my life and no matter how good my life was it could only have been better if you were in it.

Today when I awoke I realized that even if I died today, I would be happy and fulfilled in the knowledge that you are good. You have a fine life and fantastic children and wife. You did it all and did it well even though I was not there to hold your hand.

But I am there now.