Thoughts on inherited traits, or death is a one-man show

I’ve never really looked up to anyone and I always felt that my big decisions have always been my own.

I was born to two wonderfully creative and talented people, and I have admired them both, but the fact is that I never learned much of anything from either of them. My talents are my own. My mother took all of hers with her when she died, and most of my dad’s talents have died away as he as aged into a retirement of physical necessity.

This is not to say that none of who I am comes from my parents. From my father, I get my intelligence, my quick wit, and my way with words. I also get my poor housekeeping, my forgetfulness, and my tendency to lose touch with people.

From my mother, I get my creativity and my kindness. I also get my mental illness, my bad eyesight, and my tendency to leave everyone behind and start over.

Both of my parents have shown me that independence is the necessity, and that we all die alone, whether it happens at age 40 or 70 and beyond.