Will they have stories to tell about you?

I love to hear stories. I love to tell stories. I have so many funny stories about my two beloved parents, no longer with us on earth. We have told these treasured stories over and over. They continue to be funny. They continue to give me warm, fuzzy feelings regarding the situations our family endured. I was telling my husband the other night, that our children will have stories about us. We have funny ones, sad ones, unusual ones. I am so glad. Many young people don't spend enough time with their family to even have stories to share and connect with. Take a moment right now and think. Are you a parent living such a modane life with your family that there isn't a spark of energy, fun or emotion in your world? We mothers can be guilty of allowing our personalities to dissolve, or fade into the background of maintaining household order and work. Fathers are so busy providing financially there isn't time for fun with the family and when there is time they take it for themselves. I realize we adults need our downtime, but let's not take it at the expense of our family getting to know us better, laugh at us, be angry, be frustrated, and accept one another. As my mother was taking her last few days into the journey of dying with breast cancer, my father decided to trim a few of the tree limbs that had been worrying her. She sat on the patio, with her oxygen flowing and her endless words of advice to my father regarding tree trimming. She advised him to move his ladder so he could trim the limb closer to the trunk. He blindly obeyed her words. As the chainsaw chewed through the last splinters of wood, it became apparent there was a reason he had chosen to trim this particular limb farther out. His ladder was resting on it. As the limb fell to the ground, so did the ladder and my father's shin bones scrapping down the metal rungs. My mother used every bit of her breath trying to warn my dad of his fate, but he could not hear her. When it was decided he would survive his shaved off shins, and nothing was broken,my mother began laughing. As my father stared in dismay at his wife of many years, he shook his head and wondered himself why he listened to her advice. As he questioned her logic, she responded with her usual chuckle. Later, when I went to visit them, my father proudly showed me his shins covered with scabs from his battle with the ladder. My mother laughed as much as her faint air would allow. He remarked at how well his shins were healing, pretty good for an old man. And we all knew, even the next time, he would listen to his bride of over 40 years, giving him well intended advice, and we would be glad because that would mean another story in their history book. The book we continue to talk about. Share about. Are you writing a book with your family? Or..... there isn't enough to even say. Make history. Your family will love it, share it and need it one day.