Typed Text From Journal Page:
7/13/96 1:12 a.m.
Emma,
My darling, beautiful daughter. How much I do love you. I look at you and wish you would let yourself be four years old. You are in such a hurry to grow up. Your baby pictures make me wish, yearn for that little girl that is inside and does not want to be. I get desperate just thinking about how much I wish you were my little baby. I did not play with you often enough. I did not hold you often enough, or long enough. So much time has passed and so many things have happened – yet so few things have happened. I have been so busy fighting with you that I have not enjoyed the Emma you are. Soon you will b away and I will not have had you at all. I understand that feisty young girl inside of you. I can see how your fear hides behind your anger. I wish I could take that all away, but I can not. I try to help you guide it, mold it, control it and not let it control you.
You make that so difficult. You fight me every step. I keep hoping that once you start kindergarten you will find a way to con[s]truct your venting. That is my hope. That which you find and my love and understanding will help you find the way – Your way.
You are such a wonderful person. You are incredible. You are so full of fire and spirit – Alive and impatient with the walls that bind you. But you put up your own walls. Your inability to let your self be human is always your undoing. I hope that by the time you get to read this you have overcome and conquered that fear. I do not know what the future holds for me. However, I try to make the best of what we have. I try to make the right choices. I have tried to find someone to fit into our life that will offer more stability, but I have not been successful. I wish to either quit entirely or someday succeed. Not entirely for our benefit but also for mine. Once you and Brandon have left my side this person is all I will have left. So far that person has not happened. Apa has come the closest. In love and soul he touches me deep, where I have not been touched by any other. Yes, not even by your father. Apa feels about many things the way I do. He understands me, and most of all he understand, loves, and respects you – not as a child, but as a human being. People like Apa you will not find very easily in the world. Perhaps by the time you need someone in your life an individual such as he has been cultivated for you. One can only hope that mankind is working today to better the generation of tomorrow. You are that generation, you and your brother.
Work together, work well, each other is all you have that has been a lifetime.
And don’t forget to let yourself be human, and to love – universally.
Love
Mama
Typed Text From Journal Page:
7/13/96 1:45 a.m.
My Son,
I looked into your eyes today after raising my voice to you and my heart broke. I love you so much. I crush when ever you are sad. You are such a loving gentle person. Although sometimes you can be a real shit, but you’re only seven and even you need to vent. I am tough on you because I want you to be prepared for life. You are a boy and soon a man, men do not get taught how to be real, simply how to be men. I want you to be both.
Always know how to treat a lady. Especially if she has earned it.
Occasionally you may have to sock your sister in the arm and set her straight on the facts of life. Remind her to love herself, remind her that it’s ok to be human. She is allowed to cry, be angry, be happy and be scared.
Never raise your voice to another person, even if they merit it. Never lie, or cheat or steal. The only person you truly end up doing it to is yourself.
I am not the perfect mother, I am human. The day I become perfect I must be dead and in the kingdom of this higher power we call God. Only there can any one be perfect.
I want so much for you. You are a wonderful human being. Never let anyone take that away from you. Never let anyone tell [you] you’re wrong. Never stop asking questions. Never stop looking for answers. The puzzles you try to put together are of another kind. Keep trying – if the pieces do not fit make new pieces.
Life is too, too short son.
Love
Mom
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