My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
You need no one's permission but your own. You are as free as you let yourself be, and if no one agrees it needn't make a difference. How, and even if, they respond is for you to accept or decline, and you give it the meaning you want it to have.
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