February 21, 2003

You,

It's on my mind every day.

I listened to Johnny Cash sing his version of 'hurt' this morning. I cried as I heard the words. Mine isn't so sad. I have had a good life. I have lived many roles in the same situations. I've had my share of hurt, I live in that 'empire of dirt' the song refers to and I'm happy.

Still, they do all go away in the end. Some, like you, I wish I could somehow hang onto, somehow keep. I remember what you've said. I remember how you gave so freely without asking anything in return. I remember how you tried to help me, mold me, direct me, give to me what you knew. I never got the chance, or maybe I just didnšt know the words or how to say exactly, "thank you". I don't know still how to say it so that you will really know how deep it goes, and already it comes too late.

You gave me what parents should have but didnšt or couldnšt. You taught me how to keep my life from becoming a tragedy. You gave me something beside my will to hold onto, then you disappeared.

Thank you.

Beth