An Audience of One: How I Wish This Blog Didn’t Exist

Today’s daily writing prompt from our friends at WordPress is another irresistible one: “Picture the one person in the world you really wish were reading your blog. Write her or him a letter.”

The obvious, but impossible, choice would be my husband Jim, but this blog would not exist but for his untimely death.  So I’m going to do a linguistic semi-cheat and go for the single audience comprised by a collective noun: our children.

Sometimes it’s much easier to write than to speak.

How I wish this blog didn’t exist.  

Strictly speaking, it came into being thanks to one of you: you managed to figure out that after I had finished writing for you (a massive tome for you to read someday), I still needed to write for me.  You made the blog technologically idiot-proof, and even manage to stifle groans when teaching me baby steps like making a link and uploading a picture.  You are very patient.

But of course the blog exists–as one of my many forms of therapy–because of the audience of one it can’t have: your dad, whom you and I and the world should have had for so much longer.

When you all went back to school and plowed ahead with your education, work, projects, music, dancing, and vast arrays of art and hobbies, you honored him.

When you need to pause and reflect, that honors him, too.

Whenever you may need to ask for help in dealing with the unfathomable pain of all this, you honor him.  

Whatever it takes for you and for me to get through each day is what he would want for us.

You honor him whenever you learn something new, and whenever you teach something.

When you are able to torture your extended family with devilish word puzzles around the Thanksgiving table, that honors dad, too–as do the times you let a chuckle escape, or give me the set up to utter the words your dad would have spoken (“Can you take the cannoli, mom?”  You ask in a bakery, your arms already laden.  I pause the beat your dad would have waited, “Should I leave the gun?”).  

I think the only thing I could do to dishonor your dad would be not to do my best to take care of you and of myself (though I fall down on the job there sometimes), not to try to treasure the times when the Earth remains beneath my feet for both of us.  

He fought so hard to have more time to be with us, to take us away for a family adventure when he felt well enough to do it, and to be home with you when the time came to hand off this life and legacy to us. 

You make him so proud.   

Love, more than words could ever say, 


About Stephanie

In her spare time, Stephanie works full-time, and then some, as an attorney. She has published articles and delivered talks in arcane fields like forensic evidentiary issues, jury instructions, and expert scientific witness preparation. She also is an adjunct professor at a law school on the banks of the Charles and loves that dirty water, as she will always think of Boston as her home. You are welcome to take a look at her Facebook author page, or follow @SMartinGlennon on Twitter and @schnitzelpond on Instagram. Bonus points for anyone who understands the Instagram handle. All content on this blog, unless otherwise attributed, is (c) 2012-2021 by Stephanie M. Glennon and should not be reproduced (in any form other than re-blogging in accordance with the wee Wordpress buttons at the bottom of each post) without the express permission of the domain holder.
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21 Responses to An Audience of One: How I Wish This Blog Didn’t Exist

  1. Pingback: Audience of One – A letter to God « Just another wake-up call

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  5. perfect response to the daily prompt – sorry it had to be though..

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  7. Angelia Sims says:

    Oh my goodness….so heart-wrenching. What a beautiful letter to your children. I am so sorry for your loss, but very glad you found an outlet. I have a feeling he is still your biggest fan. Visiting from Susie’s place. 🙂

  8. Kathy says:

    Beautiful letter. I’m sorry about the loss of your husband. I too started a blog to deal with the loss of a loved one. I had no idea what a blog was and my husband said “just write.” So I did. Nearly 4 years later I am still writing. The loss of my mom to pancreatic cancer doesn’t hurt as much but I still miss her. Today I followed the daily prompt and wrote a letter to my mom. Thanks for sharing your thoughts. Take care

  9. cshowers says:

    That was truly heart breaking, while at the same time, comforting to your children. It was a beautiful tribute to your husband. Thank you for opening up and allowing others to take a peak inside your heart. May the Lord bless you!


  10. Catherine Johnson says:

    Awh that’s so beautiful! Sorry for your loss, that’s a lovely letter.
    Popped over from Susie’s blog.

  11. Susan says:

    What a gift that letter is…what a gift, what a gift!

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  14. YAduhYAduH says:

    A beautiful letter your children will surely cherish!

  15. eof737 says:

    I’m sorry to read about your hubby… Blessings to you and your family.

  16. Mazigrace says:

    Thank you for sharing your heart felt words. I just received news myself, that a dear friend’s father, that I’ve known for over 25 years, passed away yesterday. I sent him this sentiment and I’d like to share it with you:

    Like a bird singing in the rain, let grateful memories survive in a time of sorrow. One will wish for, in quiet sadness, a longing for one more day, one more word, one more touch, but little by little all will remember not just that she died but that she lived and that her life gave memories too beautiful to forget.

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  18. Wow, this was a powerful and touching post – he must have been a wonderful and amazing man; it is clear he was loved very much.
    Thank you for sharing your heart.

  19. What a Day! says:

    Beautiful. Thanks for sharing and being real. There is no greater pain that I know than the loss of a loved one and what we cant do to honor them keeps joy alive. Stephanie…you are not alone! The more we share our stories the more we can help others know this too. Thanks again. Don’t think my blog would have existed either if I did not lose my parents so early. Oh what a long road to learning. 🙂

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