I am an author, for the reallies!!!!

My Book is for sale at Barnes & Noble (bn.com) and Amazon.com.

 

I just typed the words. I typed in my own name on the Barnes & Noble web site. I google'd myself.

 

I

Typed

My

Own

Name

At Barnes and Noble and a book popped up! A real book. My book. My life. My heart is beating fast and my hands are shaking. Suddenly I am not tired at all. I want to call my mom and tell her to go look. The problem is it's 1:17 in the morning. So it's 3:17 in TX….

I am usually filled with words. My emotions that seem to tumble out of my soul and onto paper aren't there right now. How ironic is that? I have a book full of words and yet I can't find the right ones to express what this feels like. Almost light headed. Writing about my feelings is what I do, yet I'm not sure what it is. I clicked on the cover and saw my name there. My Name. I went and woke Ron up. My "crutch" is not alcohol or cigarette's; no mine is diet coke. So I sit here chugging diet coke and I keep clicking on the Barnes & Noble tab, like I dunno, will it disappear? Is it true?

It is true. I think my conflict is that my dad can't see it. I can't show it to him on a laptop. I will never hold the actual book up for him and show him what his daughter did. I sit in the quiet and try and hear his voice. Imagine him saying "that's good". One of the last conversations my daddy and I had was in the dead of night. Watching a western. We were talking about the book I'm writing about his journey and he asked why I was doing that and I said cause I'm so happy to have you and he looked at me and said "I'm proud to have you as my daughter".

We just took about a 10 minute break for me to sit and look at the cover and cry. My dad was not a mushy, touchy feely kind of man. He hardly ever said sorry. So those words will live in my heart as long as I am breathing. But what I wouldn't trade to have him back, to see the grin. Even to see a tear roll down his face. Towards the end of his life, he wouldn't hold his emotions so tightly in check.

My mother tells me how proud "they" are. She still speaks of them. She tells me how proud she is. She says I have the strength and courage that my daddy had; to put my soul out there. My mom is a great writer herself, but she says she has never had the strength to do it.

 

So here's to you Daddy. To the strength and bravery you demonstrated those last two years of your life.

 

And here's to you mama. For always knowing what to say. For showing me your strength and bravery every day since daddy passed. For breaking that first rule of parenting; for being my friend.