Bittersweet Legacy [on the fly]

bittersweet symphony this life

 

I’m feeling a bit of the bittersweet symphony of life today. 

 

When I woke up today, I did what almost everyone nowadays does – I checked my phone as if it were the morning newspaper. I found that I had received a heartfelt thank you from a friends’ son; I had donated to his fraternity’s philanthropy project.

Donating isn’t a big deal for me, as I always help out when it comes to things of that nature. I find it admirable when young adults get involved in helping out the community and others. We definitely need more of that in the world.

There is no doubt that my friend is proud of his son, with good reason. He’s definitely done an amazing job of guiding and raising him.

This got me to thinking, of course, because this rainy and cool fall weather always forces me inside of my own mind.

My daughter, who is now twenty-three years old, recently graduated from college with her Master’s in Education. I am so very proud of the beautiful, talented and compassionate woman she has become.

I say it all the time – she is all the wrongs of my life gone right. She happened for a reason and is well on her way to fulfilling her destiny.

 

Now here comes the bittersweet part…

 

While I know I made the right decision by placing her for adoption, and I have no regrets whatsoever, I feel that cannot take the stance of a proud parent because I didn’t have anything to do with the wonderful young woman she has become. That honor lies with her parents.

 

That stings, just a little. I’m even tearing up now as I type these words.

 

 kid in grown up shoes

 

In some alternate universe somewhere, I kept and raised her; I’m sure I was even more of a failure than Mom-ster was at raising me. I’ve faced that fact – I would have been a horrible mother.

 

Thank god that universe isn’t reality.

 

With that being said, what is to be my legacy in this world, since I haven’t a child to pass anything on to? I know that my writing, photography and art are a huge part of how I will be remembered, but nothing can grow from those.

I don’t know, maybe I’m just having a mini mid-life crisis. Perhaps I’m just over-thinking the issue. It could be a side effect of PMS.

 

Who knows?

 

It’s funny sometimes the things that get caught on loop in your mind. Times like this I am thankful for my [on the fly] pieces, so I can get these thoughts out. I’m sure I’ll come back at a later time, read these words and laugh at my reasoning.

This is why I am an artist, I suck at reason.