My dearest smart and handsome grandson,
How do you make sense of feelings and thoughts that are different from what others have? What do you see that we do not, with our ordinary naked eyes? Where do you get your drive, your gentleness, your anger, your frustration and your glee? What makes you happy or sad?
I marvel at the things that excite you now, and bore you later. I am amazed at what you can remember and describe in your own language that I am too slow to grasp. I wish to slap myself for failing you each time.
I want to understand how you think and see the things around you. I want to soak in the bizarre, the weird, the absurd that you might find amusing or just as disgusting, just because you see the difference that I do not.
I pray to God that I be able to enter your little world before I die, so that I may be able to understand your feelings, analyze your thoughts or feel your frustrations in my limited understanding and simple human heart.
I wish to be able to hold your hand, whenever you want the touch of a familiar old, rough palm. I want to laugh with you always, and cry with you if it makes you feel better.
I wish to God that I be given a small dot of a space in your heart so that I can be with you, even when I am gone.
My heart is yours, my brave little warrior Franco! You go out there and conquer the world! I will always be your #1 fan and follower!
Love,
Manita
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