In this single
paragraph, written, apparently, minutes after his mother died and meant to
remember her in the most glowing terms, he wrote:
“You didn’t spare the ruler or the bar of soap
when it was required, you made us do our chores every weekend day before we
could go out to play and you made us eat our vegetables (all of them!!) before
we left the table ….
Now, I don’t know this man and I didn’t know his mother and I am sorry for his loss.
However, this
is not how I want my kids to remember me when I am gone.
I want them to
remember being loved, not being ordered about. I want them to remember the hugs
and kisses and cuddles and laughter, not being smacked with a ruler. I want
them to remember that I listened to them when they were angry (and even taught them about swear words), not that I shut them up by stuffing bars
of soap in their mouths. I want them to remember that I inspired a love of good, healthy
food and that we had happy dinners together, not that I forced them to choke
down food that they hated.
I want them to
remember me that way because that’s the kind of person I want to be – and, frankly, that’s
the kind of people I'm hoping they become, too.
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