It is September 18th, 2008 and I have decided that writing letters is the most therapeutic way there is for me to deal with things.  I know that you would approve, you always understood my need to write.

Remember when we took dad to his blood test on September 3rd?  We were talking about my ability to make money online and dad made the comment about how the other kids needed to figure out what I had figured out.  You laughed with me when I laughed and agreed when I explained that I had something that they don’t, I have an addiction to writing.  I have to write, it is … it just is.  I tried to explain it, what words and their ability to convey things means to me.  I was not sure you really understood until that day, when you explained that you had just finished watching something on TV about people that can not stop writing.  You said how you thought “That’s Sandra!” when you saw it, that you nearly woke me up so I could watch it with you because of just how much the person reminded you of me and my compulsion to need to write.

I know you will understand that writing is the best thing for me now.  You would approve of my writing.  I think you also would approve of me writing this out onto the Internet.  I remember when I was starting up Family Caregiver Info I said that I had no idea what to write about on that blog, and you said “Write about being a family caregiver, about what you do.”  I cringed at the thought of that because I knew how private of a person you are.  I did not want to put personal stuff on the Internet, but… I think I understand now what you had meant, what you were saying to share.  You wanted me to write about my life, trusting that I knew you well enough that I would know what did not need to be shared with strangers.  You knew that writing is therapy  for me, you knew that this – the world of the Internet – is my world.

You understood my friendships, even when others would belittle me that the only friends I had were “not real”.  You defended that my friends who I talked to online were real, that they were as valid as any friends I could walk down the block to visit.  When people scoffed that all I did was sit in the office and “play” on the computer, you believed in me, you told me not to listen to anyone else and to keep right on with what I was doing.  You understood, and I never really understood just how much you understood it.  I know that you would approve of my writing this, of my sending it “out there”.   I know you would most definitely approve of me finding some way to support myself by doing this.  You simply understood, and you were not concerned about how anyone felt about what was being said, so long as what was shared was considered before it was shared.  I never really understood that before.

There is a line between what is shared and what is personal, what is no one else’s business.  That is why this is going to be divided. As I write this I am going to pour my heart into it, I am going to say everything that comes to mind, everything that happens, everything I want to scream about… then I am going to place that into my personal journal here, for you and me alone.  The second version, the version that you would approve of being shared, that one will go out there.  It will go into the Internet, into the world for others to read.  I am a writer, it is what I do, it is what I am… you knew that, you nurtured that love in me, you wanted me to be a successful author.  I will be.  I may not make millions, although you have always said that I had just as much chance as Stephen King and JK Rowling and anyone else that has ever made it big as a writer.  I will be successful, I know that because you showed me through your support long ago that as long as I am happy with what I am doing, I am successful.  You showed me through your pride in my ability to make money through my online work that I had already succeeded as a writer in your eyes.  I am a successful writer, and I will do nothing but grow more successful.

Thank you, mom, for giving me the gift of having the courage to follow my dreams. The resolve to let nothing stop me from following those dreams.  And the determination to make those dreams come alive, no matter what it takes or how many pots of beans I have to suffer through surviving on to attain those dreams.

I love you mom, and I always will love you.  I promise, as I promised before, that I will take care of everyone for you, so… Good night, and sweet dreams.  Rest well knowing that I have everything under control and that me and the Wookie will guard you as you sleep and we will, as always, protect you from any and all nightmares.

Love, Sandra