Voices

Today, my father spoke to me. For those of you who have been following my blog, this may come as a shock, because you remember me relating to you the moment of his death. Yes, my father is dead - or should I say, no longer mortal? And yet he spoke to me. I would like to share with you some of the things that he said.

"You are a son; a loving and devoted son to both your mother and myself; and yes, you're much, much more than this! How can I put into words the sadness when something happens to you, or the happiness when I know you're happy? Or the pride when I see you progress in all the things you have done in your life, and it doesn't stop here. I will experience these things with your throughout eternity.


"Lane, you have made me one of the proudest fathers on this earth over one of his sons. And I know that the lump I've felt swell in my throat [which] brings tears to my eyes will happen again as I see you progress with your own life and the things [that] you will achieve."

No, I did not receive a ghostly visitor or a heavenly manifestation. I received something much more tangible - a letter. He wrote it to me on 19 November 1982, when I was 18 years old. I remember how much it meant to me when I received it - how much more it means to me now!

For some reason, unknown to me, I awoke this morning at 4:00. I went directly to my office, opened a file drawer and withdrew on of my journals (I have 11 volumes, thus far). I began to read of my teenage years - when I started writing in my journal, and I came across this faded, 4-page letter from my father.

Once again, I am reminded of how important journals are and will be - not just to my posterity, but to me. By being able to pick up my journal and read of past accounts, thoughts and feelings, I gain a much greater insight into who I am today - and how I got here.

Let me share another entry with you.

11 October 1982

 I have made the decision to let my wife, after marriage, read this journal that she may more fully understand me. I have no knowledge of whom I will marry (I had a steady girlfriend at the time, whom I did not marry). I don't know if I've even met my wife yet, but Honey, please realize as you read the relationships I've had with other girls, [that] the feelings I had were written by a 16, 17 and  18-year-old boy who could never know who is right for him. I will always hold a special place for these girls in my heart, but you are the one I've chosen to be with me throughout time and all eternity."

As you can imagine, this was a great surprise to me today - I don't remember even writing those words, let alone having made that decision. And that is the miracle of journals. You can record - to a degree - who you are at the moment, and it will surprise you in later years.

At times you will read in amazement your own wisdom for one so young (you always seem young in your journals), and laugh at the folly of your youth. You will remember with fondness, past glories and fun events, and will read with pride and renewed determination of the difficulties which you have overcome.

I have been writing in journals since 25 December 1979, when I received my first journal as a Christmas gift from my parents. Have I written every day? No. Have I recorded every major event in my life? Again, regrettably, no. But I have compiled a history - somewhat - of 31 years of my life; for me, my wife and my posterity. And it will continue as long as I have the capacity to do so.

My friend, please, I am begging you, keep a journal. Please create this great foundation of support for yourself and your family! No matter who you are, how old you are, or what you have done, your journal will be treasured. You will treasure it and your loved ones will, too.

Here is a letter, written by my grandfather:

February 2, 1981 (My grandmother's birthday)

Dear Olga, Mother and most of all my loving wife and sweet-heart that I have owned for 52 years, 11 months and 22 days. You are the most precious part of my life and I am looking forward to having a few more years to follow, with pleasure and happiness.

And have a happy day to start the ball rolling

All my love and best, Your Loving Husband

P.S. Buy something special for your birthday. Sorry I never got you a card

Today, my father spoke to me. What a joy it was to read his words, written in his beautiful penmanship! Oh, how I wish he would have kept a journal. I could surely use his advice. Today I was reminded that I have come from a family of love - generations of love. Love so deep that I cannot comprehend it.

All of this and more is my miracle of the day - because of a journal.