If you read back to one of my earlier blog posts, I mentioned that one of my favourite aspects of Connor Franta’s book was the letters from his parents. After publishing the post I thought it’d be a good idea to ask my parents to do the same as I’m very intrigued as to what they will say about me. So here goes. Probably one of the most personal blog posts I’ll ever publish. A letter from my mum. Get to know a20somethingguy…
You asked me to write this letter for your blog as you had been inspired by the letter Connor Franta’s mum had written in his book, ‘A Work in Progress’.
All I can say is I think you and Connor have been separated at birth! Reading his mum’s letter was as though I had written it for you.
To be honest I’ve wanted to write to you for about the last 21 years – so thankyou son for giving me that final push!
You nearly didn’t make it into the world and when you finally did arrive after a very traumatic 24 hours how I thought my heart would burst with joy. There were no signs of what you had been through. From the get go you were so nosy. When you were being held, friends and family commented constantly about how strong you were, lifting your head, desperate not to miss a trick. That was just the start.
Your first word was ‘Dad’. Oh how I was envious of that! You did everything in a rush, culminating in walking at 9 months old. It felt as though you were talking as soon as you drew breath. Friends and family were astounded at the breadth and depth of your vocabulary. At school, your primary head teacher said she thought you would be Prime Minister one day as you chaired The School Council.
You were so self-assured, pushing yourself and us to try everything. You were easily frightened at the same time. This worried me. I wanted you to be fearless. Little did I know how that fear would soon leave when we waved you off on your trip to South America the summer you finished your A-levels. I couldn’t believe how this frightened little boy had blossomed into an intrepid explorer.
You’ve experienced your fair share of trials and tribulations over recent years. My heart swells with pride with how you have overcome everything that has been thrown at you.
Each and every time you are deep in conversation and passionate about what you want from life I want to hug and squeeze you so hard. I love you so much. Dad and I have done good. We too have had our fair share of tough times but the good outweighs it all. When I look at you, even just when I’m waving you off at the front door and you might only be just nipping in your car for a newspaper, I think in the words of Grandad George – ‘You can’t buy that’.
Let me know what you think in the comments below? Do you enjoy a personal blog post?