Dec 3, 2009
I know you probably don’t think about it too often, how the hundreds of not thousands if not hundreds of thousands of women probably fantasize about you, being with you, dating you, loving you, etc. I assume that one of the things that probably comes with fame is being able to somehow be immune of ignorant of the lust and fanaticism of those who watch you on television, in the movies, or on the stage.
But I wonder sometimes if you truly understand what that means to be wanted and lusted after by so many women.
Anyway, I won’t say that I’m your biggest fan, because that is a bit too book/movie Misery for my comfort, and I’m not certain I’d even say I am a fan, per se. I enjoy watching you on House. I like that character you play, and yet, I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything about you personally, except that I just found out today that you’re married and have kids. (more…)
Apr 7, 2009
The following Unsent Letter was sent to me anonymously and was donated to be put on the blog. I do not know who wrote it. She requested I include the information at the end of the letter. I don’t know if the letter is true or not, but I don’t think when you read it that it’s going to matter. I cried through editing it, so be forewarned.
My Dearest Baby Boy,
Sometimes when you are sleeping, I watch you lying there, so peaceful. I believe with all my heart that the world would be a better place if we could all know the peace of a sleeping child.
You’re young now, but you’re strong and beautiful and perfect. One day, you’re going to grow up and you’ll think back on these times, and you’ll remember. When you do, I hope you remember how I am now, and not how I’m going to become. This is the mother I want you to see me as. I suppose if there is one consolation to this it’s that I will always be eternally youthful in your memories.
Right now, you don’t understand the big grown up words that are being said around you. You don’t understand what Stage Four means. You don’t realize that, even though you have learned to count to 10 now, that when it comes to Cancer, five doesn’t come after four. Four is as high as Cancer can count, my darling boy.
I know you don’t understand words like blood tests, and hospice and home health. You don’t even seem to notice that mama doesn’t have hair like the other kids’ moms do. You still touch my face when I’m sleeping and tell me, “Pretty, mama.” And so I am, because of you. The only thing you know is that mama sleeps a lot, and she doesn’t wrestle on the floor with you much anymore. In a way, I’m glad that’s all you know. (more…)