2 weeks ago, my dad found one of my mom's (Debbie) journals. Since we (KLB) all live far from each other, my dad decided he would email us a copy of the journal. It's so wonderful, because every Sunday, I can look forward to receiving an email from my dad. He only sends us 1 page at a time. Which I like even more, because that means I will be getting Sunday emails, for awhile.
Email from my dad:
Dear Girls: I recently discovered a handwritten journal that your Mom Debbie kept from mid-1978 through mid-1986. If I knew about it before, I had completely forgotten. It's 60 pages long, 12" high by 9" wide. The piece I transcribed here is 2 1/2 pages, , or roughly 4% of the total. She doesn't write every day, but from time to time. I thought you might like to see what was on her mind as a young married, then a young mother. I haven't read it, so I will discover her thoughts along with you. As you can see, the time frame covers your early years with us. She turned 24 in the summer of 1978 and was 32 at the time of her last entry here, a year before her death. My plan is to transcribe a little bit each Sunday and send it to you via email. The other journal she mentions in the first paragraph here is undoubtedly her Day Planner. That one I knew about. All the pages are gathered in one fat green binder. Those entries are more of a day-to-day nature. After I have transcribed all of this first one, I will look the other one over as well and transcribe the parts I think would be of greatest interest to you. My editorial touch is very light--anything I add is by way of explanation &/or clarification. My comments will be marked by brackets [ ].
Love, Dad
Every time I read the emails, I cry. I wish that she hadn't died, and I wish that my dad, or someone would have talked to us about her. After she died, my dad remarried, and just lost contact with her family. So I barely even remember them. It's sad, but we never talked about her, I never really knew what kinds of things she liked, or what kind of a personality she had. The only memory I have of her, are very fast blurry images, mostly of light blonde hair. When I look at pictures of her, I recognize her face, smile, and eyes. But it makes me wonder how much of what I recognize, is because I have been shown those images, over and over throughout my life. Or if somewhere deep down, I can truly remember her. I don't know. I look at my son, Logan, and all my nieces and nephews and wonder what if I was gone? Would they be able to remember me?
I think I was 5 or 6 when my mom died. 5 or 6 and I can't vividly remember anything about her. You would think by that age, I would be able to recall at least 1 moment, that I spent with her; and know for sure, that moment wasn't some figment of my imagination. That it was real. But I can't. I know what the Psyche community would say, they would say that I have just repressed the memories I had with her, and that I have repressed everything about her. Because subconsciously I feel too sad and angry, that she's gone. And if I hadn't repressed those memories, I wouldn't have been able to move on with my life. I wouldn't have been able to figure out how to go on living and function "normally".
But I wish I could remember, even if I would have been so hurt and damaged, I wish I could remember.
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