“There are hard days to live. And sometimes they will be just a few, and sometimes they will seem endless. And eventually you'll come to understand that we've all been there before - or more than likely are going there now. And maybe that idea will make it easier for you, and maybe it won't. But there will still be hard days to live, and you will still have to find your way through them.”
Source: The Legacy Letters: his Wife, his Children, his Final Gift
“If You Don't Believe the Numbers and Believe in Your Spirit, then You're Ageless.”
Source: The Legacy Letters: his Wife, his Children, his Final Gift
“It's through traveling you make the great journey into yourself, and it's the clarity of extremes in traveling that forces you to meet yourself like you've never met yourself before.”
Source: The Legacy Letters: his Wife, his Children, his Final Gift
“And Sometimes I Feel as if I'm Only a Doorman Awaiting the Arrival of her Royal Majesty.”
Source: The Legacy Letters: his Wife, his Children, his Final Gift
“How much better does being alive get then sitting beside a warm fire amidst a misty rainy morning.”
Source: The Legacy Letters: his Wife, his Children, his Final Gift
“I wish I could wrap up the glitter star-green of this moment and hand it to you like an angel gift. Give you the heat lightning flying in jagged silence over the distant mountains. And the smell of September prairie grass and the even fainter scent of October pine now descending . . .”
Source: The Legacy Letters: his Wife, his Children, his Final Gift
“Spring is a time to make up a big bouquet of flowers for someone you love, or are trying to love, or are in love with.”
Source: The Legacy Letters: his Wife, his Children, his Final Gift
“I travel because I become uncomfortable being too comfortable.”
Source: The Legacy Letters: his Wife, his Children, his Final Gift
“I promise to dream with you both great dreams and small dreams. To ask your counsel in times of uncertainty. To honor your silence when you seek to be alone. To be ever wondrous at your curiosities and revelations. And to be ever rejuvenated by your passions . . .”
Source: The Legacy Letters: his Wife, his Children, his Final Gift
“A Mother Steeled by Stewart Stafford
A haunted mother in despair's glade,
That echoed with her feral screams,
Sifting through tiny bones for reasons,
Catharsis an absent but invited guest.
Healed knees, once bloody, kneel,
Cobwebs wiped, storm damage fixed,
Bittersweet, her baby has taken wing,
His bruises, all of him, now flown above.
Daybreak's star field on the final vigil,
Dropping the self-flagellation whip,
Fragment memories of her infant taken,
Striding forth, her scars a living map.
© 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
