Relationships – Page 9

Why MY Grandma?

Last week, my grandma started her first of 12 rounds of chemotherapy. After surviving 2008 and beating Stage IV colon cancer, her cancer came back in 2010. A small amount of cancer was found in her lung and she would have to endure chemo once again.

I remember what my grandma was like in 2008, especially towards the end of her fight. She morphed from my plump, squeezable grandmother to a frail, small woman who I was scared to hug too hard for fear I would break her. I remember the fear we all felt and the fear my grandma tried so well to keep hidden.

But then she beat the cancer and spent 2009 recuperating. She was healthy enough to go out to lunch with the family on Mother’s Day, cook Thanksgiving dinner, and return to her normal self. She was feeling great, getting plenty of exercise, and baby-sitting her great-grandson a few days a week. Her energy level was high. She was back to being my grandma again.

And now I’m scared. I don’t want her to return to that frail woman again. I don’t want her to have to deal with the side effects of chemotherapy, the constant beeping of her pump during the nights she has poison racing through her body, the inability to drink anything but room-temperature water, the disappointment when her blood count is to low to go through chemotherapy for that week, the exhaustion so bad that turning over in bed seems like a chore.

I don’t understand why she, out of everyone in my life, has to deal with this. Why does my grandma have to go through this pain? She’s faithful. She’s giving. She’s sweet. She’s everything I could ever ask for in a grandma, and in a woman. She doesn’t deserve this. My grandma and grandpa are dealing with enough on their own. They have to deal with her cancer, too?

I have anger. I’m not directing it towards God because that’s misplaced anger. If anything, God is the one we all need to lean on during this time. I guess I’m just angry at the situation. I don’t think it’s fair that she’s the one who has cancer again. Life isn’t fair and I know this. But I’m still upset about it.

It’s been said that God doesn’t give you more than you can handle. So I guess this is why my grandma has to deal with this again. She can handle it. She has the strongest faith of anyone I know. And she has an incredible husband by her side, someone who loves her so deeply. Out of everyone in our family, they are the two who could handle this the most.

So it’s not fair. And I am angry that my grandma has to deal with chemotherapy again. I wish she was still healthy and was still baby-sitting my nephew. But she’s not. She does have to deal with this. And our entire family will be by her side to support her and pray for her. She will endure this season and emerge victorious. She did it before, she’ll do it again.

Categories: Relationships

The Letter

Dear Dad,

I’m writing this letter to you because there are so many times I have wished I could have had the courage to say these things to your face. It’s a letter that has been festering in the deep recesses of my soul to give to you, so you could know how I truly feel. It’s not going to be an easy letter to write or an easy letter to read. And here is what I want you to do, for me: read the letter. And then take a week to process it. Don’t send out a spiteful e-mail right away (I’m your daughter, half your blood, so I know this is something you would do — because it’s something I would do.). Take the week and come back to the letter. Read it again and then write me back, if you wish. Do this for me, Dad.

It’s been over 2 years since I last saw you. November 24, 2007 was the exact date. I remember this because we celebrated my birthday. And I just remember how happy I was! It felt like old times — going out to dinner, coming home for cake & ice cream, and playing games. I felt like this was a turning point in our relationship. But it wasn’t. Because then I gave you a test: how long would it take my father to call me? To be honest, I was fed-up with having to call you all the time and you never really putting in the time and effort for our relationship.

But you never called me, Dad. I waited for so long until one day I just knew you wouldn’t call me back. It felt like you were finished with me.

Mom has tried her best to be the father and the mother for Mark and I. And she has done an awesome job in raising us. Neither of us has ever touched a cigarette or tried drugs. We don’t even drink. We are both successful in our own rights. We have never been in trouble with the law and I credit everything to my mom. She went through more than most single parents go through in raising us and came out on top. Not many single mom’s can say that they raised 2 great, awesome kids who never kept her up one night, worrying about where they were or what they were doing. And we still don’t.

I’m carrying a lot of baggage from my past. And most of that baggage is from you. I’m going to be blunt with you – you were never a good father to me. You berated and belittled me, yelled at me at unnecessary times and made me cry, you never showed me the unconditional love of a father. I have grown up not knowing how to respond to male attention, nor how to have a successful male relationship — because I was never shown this from my own father. And the one man in the world whom I am supposed to know loves me uncondtionally didn’t. Do you know how that feels? To grow up, knowing your dad didn’t truly love you? It causes a girl to lose total self-worth in herself, to question everything she believes in, and gives her the avenue to berate/belittle herself.

I never quite felt like I measured up to what you wanted in a daughter. I never felt that I was pretty enough, smart enough, funny enough, athletic enough, or skinny enough to be called your daughter. I constantly tried whatever I could to get your attention but always came up empty.

Our relationship was never strong to begin with. We had our moments, sure, and when I was younger, I was so proud to have you as my dad. You were the charming, funny guy that everyone felt at ease around. You played with me, acted silly with me, and made me feel well-loved. But then you and Mom divorced and it seems like things spiraled downward from there. We became an afterthought for you. Well, maybe not Mark but I know I did.

I miss you, Dad. I miss having you in my life so much sometimes that it hurts to breathe. I miss seeing you, I miss your smell, I miss your scratchy face when you have whiskers. I miss all the inside jokes we used to have. I miss hugging you. I miss watching TV and movies, curled up in your lap. I miss the fun we used to have together. I miss playing Monopoly (remember “Bankrupt on Baltic”?) and Blind Man’s Bluff. I miss your jokes and sense of humor. There have been so many times when I’ll say something funny or make a funny face and Mom will say, “That was your dad right there!” And I just get so sad, because you’re not here anymore. You have chosen not to be here anymore.

I want you back in my life. I want to see my dad again and rebuild our relationship. I want to hear you apologize and admit to your part in this failed relationship. I love you, Dad. l love you so much. First and foremost, you are my dad. You may not have been the best one but I’m your flesh-and-blood and there’s nobody else I could call my dad. I want to be able to call you dad again.

Your daughter,
Stephany

Categories: Relationships

Frail Hope

I’ve been pretty vocal on this blog about my father. The last time I saw him was November 24, 2007 after I called him to invite him to a small birthday celebration I was having. So he came. I went out to dinner with him, my mom, and my brother. And then we came back to my house to eat cake and ice cream and play some board games.

I would definitely say this is one of my favorite birthday memories. It was like old times, the four of us together again. We laughed and joked around. We had some meaningful conversations. And I felt like this was a new beginning in our relationship. My dad was going to try harder at being a father. I just knew it.

But then I didn’t hear from him. He called my brother plenty of times, always asking him to do something for him or for money. But he never called me. So I decided to wait him out, see how long it would take him to call me.

I never imagined it would take him over 2 years. And honestly, I’m still waiting on that phone call.

On Tuesday night of last week, I got a friend request via Facebook from his girlfriend. I was freaking out, wondering how she found me and why she requested me as a friend. A few minutes later, I got a Facebook message – from my father.

That’s when I really started freaking out. The title of the message was, “from dead beat dad .” I couldn’t read it. I was so, so scared. What would it say? Was he going to blame me for everything again? Was this a message that would change everything? Was he finally going to admit he had done wrong and he was sorry?

I waited until my mom came home from work to open up the message and we read it together. And then I deflated. Here was his message: “i hope you get over this hate for me but if not i guess thats it .sometimes in live you just got to let go and let people be who they are .good luck to you and if you write me back my e-mail is — love ya always your dead beat dad.”

Once again, no responsibility. Once again, it’s still my fault. Once again, he let me down.

I called my brother after I read it and read the message to him. He summed my feelings up perfectly in one word: “Unbelievable.”

I’m 22 years old. I should know by now that my dad is going to forever let me down. He’s never going to be the father I want and need him to be. He’s never going to admit to any wrongdoing. One of these days, I’m going to stop getting my hopes up. One day, it’s going to be too late for anything he does to cause any effect on me.

There has been a letter forming deep within my soul. A letter to my father. A letter that I give to him and he knows just how much he hurt me growing up and now. A letter I wanted to write but never thought I would have the chance to give to him. But I’m going to write that letter. And he’s going to get it. And, still, I am holding onto frail hope that this will be the catalyst to change things.

Categories: Relationships

One Year Ago

One year ago yesterday, I traveled up to Lakeland to pick up this little bundle of fun:

And he has completely intertwined himself into our family. All it took was a short, 45-minute drive home for him to completely wrap himself around my finger.

He arrived a little less than 7 months after the death of my beloved Minnie. Minnie was a dog my mom picked out at the SPCA when I was in fourth grade and we had 11 years before she was diagnosed with lymphoma. We found out about her cancer in late April and we had to put her to sleep on June 8th. It was the saddest day of my life, I have to say.

It took me a while to get over her death but by November, my mom and I were ready for a new dog. I am most definitely a dog person and it was rough not having a dog jumping all over me when I came home.

And then Dutch came to us. My grandma’s sister gave him to us when she couldn’t keep him anymore. And a mini-dachshund is exactly the kind of dog I wanted.

Dutch has been such a blessing to have. He’s become such an integral part of my life. He sleeps snuggled up next to me. He jumps all over me and kisses every inch of my face when I come home. He curls up on my lap when I’m watching a movie or a TV show. He’s the ultimate buddy and I’m so happy he’s my dog.

Happy Anniversary, Dutchy-Boy! I love you more and more each day.

Categories: Relationships

Can’t Live Without

*This post is being written as part of 20SB’s Blog Carnival—check it out!*

I consider myself a pretty simple girl. I’ve lasted over an entire year without cable television. For an entire year, I survived on only the basic channels – and rabbit ears. I went for a long time without a laptop, when my previous one’s power cord stopped working. I don’t have a car and my mom and I have spent a good part of the last two years struggling financially.

But we have survived.

Money and stuff are things that make life easier – and maybe more enjoyable. Sure, it would be nice to power up the boat on a Saturday and cruise down the Intercoastal. It would be nice to hit the mall on a Sunday afternoon and fill up my wardrobe. It would be nice to not have to worry if we have to, once again, swallow our pride and request a cash advance.

But I cannot live without my family. My family is my biggest source of pride and inspiration. When I’m having a bad day, they lift me up. When I have great news to share, they are the first to offer congratulations and praise for me. When I’m struggling with an issue, I know I talk to any of them and get their immediate feedback – and the truth.

And everyone in my family has something different to offer. When I need to discuss religion and God, my grandparents are the ones I turn to. They have so much knowledge and wisdom that I know I can ask them a question and they can give me the truth. (Along with a million Bible verses.) They are such godly people and don’t rely on the way of the world to show them how to live their life. They rely on God’s Word in every facet of their being.

If I need a pick-me-up, my brother is the best person to go to. Not only do I think he hung the stars, but I consider him one of my closest friends. He is also the most knowledgeable person about football that I have ever met. He can give you stats on any player in the NFL. He can give you stats about a lot of players in NCAA football. He can talk about coaches and defensive schemes and quarterback comparisons. I feel like I’m sitting with the next Chris Berman when I talk to him. His knowledge just astounds me. And he’s also someone I admire as a man. We didn’t have the ideal childhood but he got past it and is growing into a man that just amazes me. And anytime I have a problem, he knows the exact words to make me feel better and cherished.

If I need to shoot the breeze and have some fun, my cousins are perfect. They are all 7+ years younger than me but they are amazing people. They aren’t perfect and sometimes I wonder how we came from the same family, but they are my cousins. And I love them to death. They teach me not to take myself too seriously and laugh at everything. I don’t have to be too funny or too pretty or too smart around them. I can just be Stephany – and they’ll make sure to make fun of that. And that’s why I love them.

And if I need a shoulder to cry on, a problem to solve, or an issue to discuss, my mom is the one I go to. I recently talked about how awesome she is and I still feel that I didn’t do her justice. I know I can come to her with any problem and she’ll give me honest but loving answers. She is so wise (and I know she doesn’t think so) and such a good support system for me. I honestly couldn’t survive without my mother. She is my heart, my passion, and my life. I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without her.

I also can’t live without God. I know I put God at the end of this blog entry, when He most definitely should go at the top. But I’ve been struggling lately with my faith. But every Sunday when I go to church, it just reaffirms how much I need God in my life and I need to have His presence fill my days – not just my Sundays. I belong at church. God makes me feel beautiful and worthy. He gave up so much for me and continues to forgive me when I don’t deserve it.

So, there you have my answer. Now, you tell me: What can’t you live without?