Fluffy angst ahead.

My dear one

I wish so much that I wasn't writing this letter. I wish that I could be with you today in person - although I suppose you might not be as excited about your 41st birthday as you were your 7th! And perhaps you wouldn't want your old mother at your birthday parties now …

Tony's hand began to shake and he nearly dropped the letter. The expensive looking envelope had looked like just another birthday card and he had started reading the contents almost without thinking until he reached the word 'mother'. His eyes widened in wonder and he went to sit on his couch to carry on reading.

It's hard knowing that I'm going to die soon. There's so much I want to do, so many things left undone but I decided that writing this letter was something that I could and would do. There are lots of things I regret about dying but the one that hurts most is that I won't see you grow up; that someone else will be the one to tuck you in at night, someone else will check the closet for vampires, someone else will kiss your knee better when you've fallen down. But perhaps now you're 41 you're a bit less accident prone! I hope so. I hope you're safe.

When the doctors told me I didn't have long, I decided to write to you. I wanted you to know how much I love you. I hope you don't remember too many of the times when I had to do the 'mom' thing and tell you off. I hope you remember the good times: the visits to the movies, fishing trips with Dad, story times, sleepy times. I guess I should apologise for making you wear that sailor suit! But you looked so cute in it … it probably means you've always refused to have anything to do with the Navy! Did you know there's a Paddington family tradition of service in the Royal Navy? Ask your great uncle Clive – he'll tell you.

I should tell you that you have your father to thank for getting this on your 41st birthday! I wanted it to arrive a year earlier but Dad said that your 40th would be traumatic enough without you getting a 'letter from the grave' as well so we agreed it should come a year later. I hope that's OK.

I have so many hopes for you, my darling. I find I don't wish for you to be rich – although your father and Clive will always look after you – and I don't pray for you to be 'successful'. I want you to be you, the you you are meant to be. I see your determination, your stubbornness, your energy and your sense of humour and I think those qualities will serve you well. But I also see your kindness, the way you look out for others and I can see that your world has become less certain as you've come to know that there is something wrong with me. Your eyes are like my mother's and, like hers, they don't miss much!

So, my dear Tony, I won't mind if you're not 'successful' in the eyes of the world, I won't be disappointed if you haven't added to the DiNozzo fortune or if you're not at the top of whatever profession you have chosen. But I hope you will feel fulfilled in whatever you are doing - and I realise that I can't begin to imagine what that will be – but I can imagine that you do it well and wholeheartedly because I see that in you already. The little boy who practised for hours until he could ride his bike without training wheels won't do anything half-heartedly!

I'm sad that I won't see you as an adult; that I won't know if you are married or have made me a grandmother; that I won't know if you are still climbing tall trees to escape the world. Yes, I'm sad that I won't see my dear boy grow up but I'm not afraid for you because I trust that you are a good man. And perhaps, if you have to lose one parent, it's better that you lose me. It gives me great comfort and confidence to know that I am leaving you with your father who will be able to look after you so much better than I ever could. I know that you will always be the best of friends; if I didn't know that I don't know how I could bear to leave you.

Know that I am proud of you; know that you brought me and your father so much joy and know that nothing you do could ever make me love you less.

With all my love

Mom

Tony blinked as he got to the end of the letter. He almost winced when he read his mother's hopes for the relationship with Senior but somehow believed her when she said that her love would never have dimmed. He put the letter back in the envelope and spotted two more sheets of paper. The first one was a covering note from his mother's lawyer and the second was a letter from his father.

Junior

Your Mom wants us both to write a letter for you to read on your 41st birthday. Her first thought was that you'd have it on your 40th but I know how much I'm dreading reaching that milestone and I reckon you won't want anything else depressing happening on that day.

I'm not sure what your Mom wants me to say. After all, I hope that I'll still be around in person. The DiNozzo genes are pretty good so I should be. I hope you take after me that way; the Paddingtons sometimes have dodgy breathing as they get older. I can't see Uncle Clive making old bones but he's certainly a wily old bird when it comes to investments although I'm not sure if he's right about this North Sea oil he's into. Your Mom says he's never been wrong on an investment yet so perhaps I'll ask him for an intro.

I guess that's what I should tell you, Junior. Always be on the lookout for an investment opportunity and be ready to jump in. It's hard work and sometimes family life suffers as a result but I know you appreciate the good things money buys. It'll buy you a good education. Just remember that the friends you make at school might be your future business partners. Keep an eye out for the ones with the rich parents.

Just remembered that you'll be middle-aged by the time you're reading this so you'll have learned all this from me anyway. I haven't got time to rewrite this but I guess it never hurts to repeat the importance of always being alert for opportunities.

We'll both miss your Mom but we'll always have each other. DiNozzo men don't go in for all this emotional stuff but I love you Junior … and we'll be all right.

Dad.

Tony gave a half laugh as he finished his father's letter. Some things never changed! He put that letter back in its envelope but re-read his mother's. He thought it was the best birthday present he'd had that year.

AN: may be more letters to come.