My loving family,
I can only imagine what it’s like to read this because I’m blind. But if you are reading this, that means I’ve lost my battle with not getting hit by a bus. I’m dictating this to Steve, who I know you all hate, but admittedly, he’s the fastest typist I’ve ever heard.
To my husband, Frank, I bequeath this advice: never change. You’ve still got that handsome face I can’t help but grope. You’ve got a big heart and an even bigger left nostril. You make me so proud to wear my wedding ring—I’ll never get over its interesting texture. Also, try to quit smoking. I know you said you did, but I still smell it around the house. The definition of blind hasn’t changed since I last checked my braille dictionary.
Kids, ambition should be your first priority followed by glaucoma screenings. When you wake up, hit the ground running with your hands out. You can do anything you put your mind to, except echolocation. However, there will be brick walls in your path, but they’re just metaphorical, thank God. While your Mommy’s death may haunt you forever, find the fun in life. Once in a while wear comically oversized sunglasses instead of regular ones at night.
Sparky, I can’t begin to tell you how much you helped me because you don’t speak or read English. At first I didn’t think I needed a seeing-eye dog, but you sure showed me after I went blind. In terms of advice I would give you: find a new family. They’re probably going to pin my death on you.
Overall, enjoy the mysteries of life, guys. There doesn’t have to be an answer to “Why is Life so unfair?” and “What does George Lopez look like?” Remember, life’s not black and white. It’s just black.