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Category Archives: memories

Yes, I get emotional and sentimental. But each tear is filled with love and you never outgrow being my child. Your life is filled with the exhaustion of small children, late nights at work, and the journey of self-discovery.

Who you will become, and who you are now, is always changing.

I have never given up on you and we never could.  The words don’t always come out right and love does not always mean agreement.  Loving unconditionally does not mean that everything you do is perfect to me, but knowing that it means everything to you, means I support you.

You began changing a long time ago and my memories are of another time in your life when you needed me.  Today, you need to find out who you are and that means moving away from where we are to create your own home.

But, please know, that wherever you go and wherever you leave your mark, you can always come home. Even if it is just a phone call, a text, or a photo, I appreciate all of them and your home will always be in my heart. Thank you for including me in your life.

Just know, wherever you are, you can always come back home.

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Thank you for stopping by! I hope that you enjoy your visit and please feel free to share this with someone you love.

Home isn’t just a place, it is a state of mind.

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In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “To Be Resolved.”
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/to-be-resolved/

The resolution that I continue to seek is how to parent, and build a relationship with my adult children from a distance far away not to block their view, but let them see that I still keep a light on in the window.

When it comes to the relationship with our children, I don’t know that we ever reach “resolution” because we each change every day.  I am trying to respect the distance even if my experience with my parents was different.

Since this is a major goal in my life, and always was, I am reprinting this post from July 16, 2014.

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theempathyqueen

generations by gilad

I love you and you will always be my child. I have been trying to stretch and grow to accommodate your view of life, but I realize that I am uncomfortable at times. Perhaps, it is because I am out of my comfort zone trying to be inside of yours. When I raised you, I had hoped to give you good character and kindness. Given your origins, independence, intelligence, and strong opinions could not help but be part of your nature. Sometimes, those opinions hurt me. You know I am sensitive and I was an easy target. But, still, I love you.

You have chosen to live your life differently than I have chosen to live mine. I try to keep my door open to you whenever you want to walk through it. We have made, and continue to make, different choices. I did not want to choose sides. I…

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quill and ink pot red

Shakespeare, Lord Byron, Elizabeth Browning, Pearl Buck, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Ernest Hemingway, and Maya Angelou are some of our beloved men and women of letters. A “Man of Letters” is primarily concerned with literary and scholarly arts, the beauty of the written word and the value of humanism.

The concept of Humanism relates not just to the study of Humanities, but relates to any system or way in thought or action in which human interests, values and dignity predominate in philosophy or behavior.

Aha! Now you know why an Empathy Queen is interested!

Beyond all the brilliance in hand-written journals and diaries that capture our history and imagination, from Anne Frank to slavery, is the ability to capture great thought in the written word. Beautiful and eloquent thoughts have been shared in one’s own handwriting.

What a loss to realize that our children cannot read these works in their original form!

My heartfelt note and birthday wishes could not be read by my teenage recipient and that is when I realized how we have cheated this generation by giving up on Cursive writing. It is no longer taught in schools or part of educational curriculum. Spelling and grammar are not understood, nor appreciated, as they can be electronically corrected.

How can we transmit all of our history in handwritten love letters and documents of citizenship? Letters home have been a tradition of summer camp and kept as treasures, now relegated to relics of the last century. Papers and letters, censored or delivered in war torn areas by Red Cross delegations, speak of our greatest fears, loves, desires, horrors and history. Elie Wiesel wrote “Night” as his diary to remind us of what should never happen again. Ship manifests and hand-written applications filled Ellis Island to bring our descendants to America and record their personal effects, family members and birthdays. The Declaration of Independence and the signatures of our Founding Fathers cannot be read by our children.

Our humanity is in our hands and the way we brushstroke the letters of our signatures. Graphology provides us with clues to a writer’s character and personality when we can study the actual handwriting of an individual.

The beauty of linguistics and communication, a heartfelt note, a treasured thank you, Grandma’s well-kept recipes are part of our individual and family histories. The lost art of reading and writing cursive limits the notions of beauty and loyalty we can share and appreciate with our children.

Our signatures are bold, notable, remarkable and a lasting imprint; but only if we can read them.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/a-lost-art/
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Thank you for stopping by! It means more than you know.
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we-all-have-our-baggage

Several days ago, I saw a Daily Post prompt asking people if they hold a grudge or “forgive and forget.” Since then, this topic has been rolling around my brain, so I can assuredly say that I do not forget!

My brain and memories are very important to me. The things that I remember can be painful and did hurt, but they also informed me, taught me, and developed my sensitivity and empathy.

Having taught, I do remember the students, both good and bad, who have been part of the lessons along the way. I have not forgotten the lousy bosses or corporate back-stabbing. I recall my New York commutes and muggings. Those who were selfish, egotistical, mean, rude, disparaging and dispirited are part of the cadre of remembered.

People who behave that way, and treat others that way, are an anathema to me. I cannot possibly understand why they want to be remembered as that kind of person or why they would want others to remember the stupid things they should have forgotten to say out loud!

The bullies have not been forgotten though time has removed some of the sting. Yet, the words have not been forgotten and the body language and facial micro-movements have been catalogued in my brain. My memory has served as a training ground and provided me with people skills and self awareness.

So, do I hold a grudge? Well, I have to keep going and moving forward. But, I never forget. I cannot forget the history of my family and the stories archived of their lives and legacy. History is doomed to repeat itself, so based on all that has occurred in just the last 100 years, as well as the last 100 days, none of us should ever forget the past.

I cannot forget the stigma and shame of people afraid to take medication for fear of what others will say about them or their children. People forget the bravery it takes to tackle personal challenges head on. I cannot forget what economic issues my family experienced, so my empathy is well developed towards others who struggle. The tears that have been shed in grief, loss and despair are not forgotten because I have felt them too.

Watching loved ones’ health deteriorate so severely and completely, I cannot forget the pain I see in someone else’s eyes. I try to remember my manners even when others behave badly; courtesy, kindness and compassion should never be forgotten.

In fact, it really is not ever forgotten. To anyone who has struggled financially, an unexpected check in a birthday card or the kindness of strangers means the world. For someone spending days in the hospital, and nights alone, a cup of coffee or a check-in call really can be a life saver. An individual so split with grief cannot think about the numerous errands and demands of daily life and will cry with relief when someone offers a helping hand. The flowers received or the laugh shared helps to temporarily forget the difficulties and traumas that still lie outside the door.

Caring and compassionate behavior has the power to change lives and move worlds. Kindness is the Grace of memory.

To the people I wish I could forget, I will remember the lies you said to my face and behind my back always. It is a reminder of what people can do to others in the name of the ego and false friendship.

To the people who helped to light my path when it was dark and desolate, you gave me a gift that I will always remember. It is my hope that I will share it with as many people as I can and that they will remember to share it with others. Your kindness and example will not be forgotten, and while I may not carry a grudge (on the outside), I will carry a grin in my heart and growth within my soul.

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Thanks so much for stopping by! It means more than you know.
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