Monday morning when I woke up and checked my email I was shocked to see the name of one of my mother’s eight siblings in my inbox, D. Boone. It read:
“Heather, this is your uncle D. I happened to be in Dallas last week and George told me about your web site. [GEORGE HAS BEEN INFORMED THAT HE HAS OFFICIALLY BEEN WRITTEN OUT OF THE ARMSTRONG'S WILL] I read the post today about your father and want you to know something about your Dad. First, you should know that I named my son Michael after him. I respect and appreciate your dad in ways that are hard to describe. Have you ever stopped to consider the family life he was born into and the adversity he overcame in order to remove himself from that environment. I saw it, felt it, and still do not understand how he got out. I doubt that I would have been able to.
Take the time to ask him about that period in his life, you will truly be surprised what you learn.
Love D. Boone. (J. and the kids are doing great and I see your family looks great to)”
So I called my father and read him this email. And then I told him about what I’d written about him. We talked for almost an hour while Leta circled the living room putting every electronic device she could find into her mouth. And then my father said this, “Heather, you are so talented. Your ability to write and to make things funny is remarkable. I really admire that.”
My father. Said that to me.
Last night was the third night in a row that I cried myself to sleep.
