Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Sunday, September 20, 2015
Very early in the morning:
Two years ago at this time, I was probably sleeping soundly in my bed. Little did I know what horrors the daylight would bring. Two years ago at this time, I was a little girl. I thought I was an "adult", but I wasn't...not really. I thought I had been through hard times, but nothing before would compare to what the next ten months would bring. My dad went to the doctor because he was having trouble swallowing. We didn't think it was anything serious, so I was not nearly as concerned as I should have been. Later that day while I was goofing off at home, my dad was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. My mom came in and told me...my dad was still out in the car. It was the most surreal thing to ever happen to me. When Dad came in, I gave him a long hug and sobbed into his arms like a baby. It hurts so badly even now to think of how strong he still was in that moment. His arms around me were just so...strong. I watched my dad turn from that man into to a lifeless body with glazed over eyes in a matter of months. I still miss him so much every day. I miss his hugs, the way he smelled whenever he cleaned up to go somewhere, and the way he would honk and wave every time we passed an SCT bus when he wasn't working. I miss the talks we would have, going bowling with him, and all of the silly nicknames he would call me. I mourn for the moments in the future that he will not be here for. My future husband will never be able to sit down with my dad, and ask permission for my hand in marriage. My dad will not walk me down the aisle on my wedding day. My dad will never get to experience being a grandpa to my future children. At times like this, his death is still very raw to me. Yes, I can be happy. Yes, I still enjoy life. Yes, it could have been worse. But that doesn't mean it didn't happen. I will always miss my dad, and I love him so much. I see him in people and things every day, and I can only hope that I always will. It's easy to take the people you love for granted, but I like to think that through my dad's diagnosis, sickness, and death, I have become much more cognizant of those I love. I appreciate all of the kind words people say to me, and all of the nice gestures. Now to end with a quote from one of my dad's favorite books:
“Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love.” -Albus Dumbledore
Pictures found on Pinterest.
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
I am a penguin: black and white. I struggle to see the colors within myself.
I have wings, but they only serve as a painful reminder that I am incapable of flying. Everyone around me sees my wings and they ask, "Why don't you just fly?" I simply tell them, "I can't." They refuse to accept my answer. They continue to insist that I can fly if I really want to - if I try just a little bit harder.
I grow so frustrated with all of them - with myself - that my whole body tenses up. I feel like a carbonated beverage trapped inside an aluminum can.
All of these people just shake me, and shake me, and shake me. When I finally open up, I explode. It shocks them all. They never believed that all of the shaking would actually cause an explosion.
After all, I am a penguin...always wearing my tuxedo. I put on a happy face as I feel the avalanche shift beneath my feet. I keep smiling as the avalanche pushes me farther and farther away until suddenly, I am not me anymore. I am the remains of a crumpled up tuxedo, cold and soaking wet, lying underneath an avalanche. I am suffocating as the snow and my shame engulf me until I can no longer move...I can no longer breathe.
And as they stare, they silently wonder why I didn't just fly...
1st picture on www.buzzfeed.com with a link to: tumblr.com / Via schammelthecamel.tumblr.com
2nd picture on: https://www.reddit.com/r/aww/comments/1f4syf/baby_penguin/