To Molly

Hey Molly.  “Moefrancis”  Pretty much I have oh so little of an idea of who you are or what you dream of.  It’s not an accident that happened.

My wife and I came to the hospital the day you were born.   While I was there I called my son, your dad’s brother Todd, so he and his wife would know you were born.  I hoped they would have chance to come as well.  Think I can conclude in 2023 that didn’t go over so well reflecting back.  Not at all sure why but history tells a story one cannot deny!

Christmas Visit – Where is Molly:

My wife and I came to your house at Christmas when you were a baby – I guess you were about nine months old.  Your mother was upstairs with you.  Your dad told us you were sick,  Your mother never came down to visit with us that day.  Never encountered anything like that before.

High Chair Girl:

My wife and I came to your house again, you were in a high chair ( maybe you were around two years old)  at the supper table.  Pretty darn sparse visits I would say!  Have no idea what you might have thought or were told about that day??

Gosh, I am going to have to reflect some on that visit.  My best recollection is it wasn’t a smooth visit like when people sit down and visit because they are happy to see each other.  Not necessarily unwelcome but not welcome either.

Pretty much that’s it!  So I guess you are now 18 years old and about to graduate from High School.  My wife and I have received any notice or invitation in regard to your graduation.  Based upon the past many years that is disappointing but nor a surprise.

So Why Persist?:

So, why the heck am I writing this post??  Guess I never stopped thinking of you and wondered how one day I might be able to communicate with you?

Fast Forward 2023:

At the moment this is best I can do!  I confess I admit years of sustained failure!  Visited your house 3 time in 2023!  No joy!  No success.  No one came to the door but I did hear dogs bark.  I have no idea how you would know this?  I can only hope you might believe me!

My Grand Father – My Name:

When I was a kid my mother’s dad – my grandpa lived with us for around six years.  He was moved from one of his kids homes to another, mostly to my house.  The reason was he had had a stroke.  He could find his way around town to where he wanted to go.  He just couldn’t always find his way back home.  He almost didn’t talk to me during those years even though my mother told me I was his favorite.  I was named after him “Tilton Cheney” – “TC”.

My Grand Fathers Death:

When I was 13, my mother told me he was going to die that night.  I still remember sitting at the bottom of the steps in our / his old house.    Somehow he made it through that night.  The next day my folks took me to see him at a nursing home.  They went into his room first and had me stay outside!  Guess they wanted to make sure it was OK for me to go in.  Soon my mom came and got me into the room.  My grandpa was in bed!  What took my breath away was he began to talk to me like nothing had ever happened to him!  He told me he was going to take me hunting and fishing – things he loved to do.  My throat got tied up in a knot and I couldn’t speak.

More Worried about me than Death itself:

Later after we left and even to this day, I think my grandpa was far more worried about me than he was about death.  I think he knew he was going to die soon.  He rallied himself to talk to me in a genuine effort to make me feel at ease and to not be afraid.  He was think more about me than he was himself.  Yes he died later that night.

Why do I write:?

So why do I write this?  When I was a kid there was no way for me to understand what my grand father had been through or understand how much he loved me!  Just no way!  Now I am 80 and only now can I begin to understand the cost of lost time when one has little control over the circumstances in play.


Would one day love to talk to you!  Perhaps I will never get such a chance!  One does not always have control over the opening or closing of the doorway where real relationships are formed.  Even human has issues and handicaps.  I have mine and your mom and dad each have their own!  Most often those handicaps can not be seen only encountered.

Just maybe you may recall the many phone calls I made to your house – never having anyone answer.  Often leaving a message and never getting a call back.  Making a trip every month after open heart surgery – knocking of the door – hearing kids inside cry – no one came to the door.

You were just a Kid:

Heck you were a little kid!  Pretty sure eventually I communicated frustration at the welcoming recorded message that not a single time ever returned a call.

My prayer is somehow, you can learn from the mistakes made (mine and others) and not repeat any of them.

Wish things where different!  But so far no Joy!  But “Hope” lives!  How do I know?  I am writing you this post!  Forgiveness is too often impossible!  I ask you to forgive me and anyone else who assisted in this failure of becoming family!

May God Bless you, your mom, your dad, and your sister.



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