Letter to my daughter, 10/14/10


If God had come to me a year before you were born and asked me to design the exact daughter I wanted – that your mother and I wanted – I would have worked on your design day and night. Every waking hour spent thinking of every detail, your hair color, your eyes, the way you speak, your voice, your personality, and anything I could think of that would make you perfect. Would you know how to play every musical instrument, speak every language? Would you be tall, short, medium height? There would be details of details to consider.

And I can tell you this. Had I spent that year dreaming up the ideal daughter, the daughter your mother and I are so lucky to have, I would have missed the mark completely compared to the perfection of the daughter we received. Even if I had spent a lifetime in a cave working every moment of the day, I would never have come close to the marvelous person you are. I would have failed and been so happy that I did. (I’m happy I was not given the task to begin with.)

You are perfectly imperfect and a once in a lifetime combination of spirit and intelligence and Tabasco sauce. And you are brave. You have handled my hospital stays with courage and grace. I know you will continue to do so no matter what happens, and that you understand your search for happiness and love and humor trumps anything bad life might deliver. Tell life what you want it to be – command it like it’s your Labrador. Be patient, kind, and give clear instructions. It will retrieve everything you need when you need it. Trust me. It will.

I love you.

14 thoughts on “Letter to my daughter, 10/14/10

  1. WOW what a perfect letter. More Dad’s should love their Kids half as much as you love yours…Hope you’ll be feeling more like yourself soon. Stay Strong!

    • Lisa,

      I alway like when you visit and comment. We are very lucky to have a child. CF doesn’t always allow it. No reason not to love her with everything we have.

      I look forward to the day I’m not beat tired by 5 or 6.

      Best to you.


  2. I’ve written a letter to my daughter each month since she was 2 months old. (That may sound more impressive than it is – she is just approaching 15 months.) It is my greatest hope that someday, perhaps after I am gone, when she is old enough to read and understand the things I’ve written, she will be able to feel the love I have for her, as well as learn a little bit about herself AND her Mama.

    Not a lot of people understand my need to tell her the things that I do in these letters, but I have a feeling that you know exaclty what I mean.

    • I think your plan will be a successful one and your daughter will appreciate what you wrote. I hope you keep it up. I also hope that she finally reads the letters when you’re 80 sitting in rocker and she’s there sharing a moment with you. “Oh, BTW, I wrote these thousands of letters for you. Might as well let you read them.”

      Yes, I think I understand the need you describe. There are so many things I want her to know if I’m not there. I just don’t think I’ll ever be able to say or write all of them. That makes me sad. I just try to make the ones I write count. Not sure I succeed.

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