This is the box my mother gave me in 2005. Inside were three letters written in pencil on lined notebook paper. They were sent by my father when he was in the Navy and shortly before he was killed by a Kamikaze pilot in a battle in the Philippine Islands.
I know this must have been a box filled with candy that he gave her. Once I found her sitting on the floor with this box, holding a picture and crying. I was around 10 years old. She handed me a picture, which was also inside the box, and told me it was my dad. She said he was the love of her life.
This will be included in the book I’m writing this winter. As I dig into history, I’m finding more information about his family. I never really knew them. I also didn’t know my biological grandparents on my mother’s side, only her aunt and uncle who adopted her after their deaths. I loved my grandma and grandpa a lot. I’ll be including stories of growing up with them in the book as well. So many stories to be told. I don’t want the history to die with me as most of it did with my mother.
Lifting my cup of tea and thanking God for the gift of opening history for me and showing me glimpses of life in the past. Often I’ve thought of writing a fictional book about my parents, weaving a love story during World War II. Maybe, if God is willing, that will come to fruition.
Lifting my cup of tea and wishing you all a day to think about your history and if you have shared enough with your family to be passed down through generations. God is good!