I had a great childhood. I wish others could have experienced what I did. There was laughter seemingly daily, and a feeling of closeness and safety. There was the feeling that no matter what happened there was always someone there who had your back.
There was always music in our household. My mom loved to sing, as did my dad, and there was always someone singing to the tunes on the radio when I was growing up.
Slowly, one by one, my entire family passed away until there is only me now. It would not take too much effort to be sad over that fact, but I choose to hold on to those wonderful memories of a family that loved each other and enjoyed life. Make no mistake about it, we had our problems. What family doesn’t? Still, those were simpler times when family meant something….a strong bond…togetherness….and always a feeling of love.
I tried to raise my son in that matter. As a single parent for fourteen years, it was just him and me taking on life and all it threw at us. We had our problems and we struggled, but we also learned from each other. I think he grew up knowing he was loved, and I look at him today and know that I did my best to give him the kind of childhood that I had. I wasn’t perfect but I did my best.