One thing you learn when your parents die, the people whose goals and dreams you studied for your formative years, is that our goals and dreams don't matter much. #
The thing that matters is that my mother made a quilt for me because she wanted me to have it after she was gone. That she walked my brother to school one day 50 years ago and someone took a picture so I can put it on the wall of my living room today. She planted trees on her street, trees that wouldn't give shade until she was long-gone. #
That my father wrote about what he learned about using a computer to organize his work, with software I had written. The time after I was home from the hospital and he took me to the toy store and said I could have whatever I wanted. I have no recollection of what I chose, but I remember that he did it. I imagine that day he was glad I was okay. #
The things they give you, their love, the small incidental memories -- they end up mattering more than any of the battles they fought or the impossible dreams they never achieved. #
Last update: Wednesday March 17, 2021; 8:56 PM EDT.
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