I Miss...
Saturday, May 15, 2010 at 6:31pm
Life is full of ups and downs. I learned that the hard way. I cannot believe it was just four years ago that I was diagnosed with cancer. Sometimes it feels like just yesterday when I was going in for my first surgery, but sometimes it feels like ten years ago. The word “recovery” means, the regaining of or possibility of regaining something lost or taken away. I have not stopped recovering in four years. My life was changed in an instant, the girl I was before cancer is no longer inside of me. Sometimes when I am getting to know someone new, I wish they could have known the person I used to be; full of life, athletic, confident. And although I am happy with the person I am today, I still have a hard time understanding when things continue to be taken away from me. I miss the little things like going for a jog around the block, sitting indian style on the floor while playing cards, and riding my quad off into the distance just to get away from everyone for a few minutes. I miss friends that for whatever reason felt like my life was too much for them. I do not put any blame on them because I know that I can be quite a handful. I miss going to a church where everyone knew who I was and being constantly reminded by them that they are all still praying for me. I miss going out and not having to explain to every person that I talk to that this is how my voice sounds, and I am not sick. I miss going in to routine doctor appointments and not having a clue as to what the doctor is talking about, and not having this knotting feeling in my stomach that more bad news is on the way. But right now, what I miss most of all, is my big papa’s voice. I miss being able to call him up on a bad day and letting out my frustrations to him. I miss him telling me that everything is going to be okay, and always reminding me that God has big plans in store for my life. I miss hearing about his daily routines and questions about pain or his medicine and being able to assure him that everything is normal, I know what you are going through. And what I miss more than anything is talking to him on one of my good days, and seeing him perk up from the happiness and joy he felt by seeing that I was doing great.
On April 28, 2010, I woke up thinking of you. In four years I was at a high that I had not felt in a very long time. All I wanted to do was tell you how amazing I was doing. I planned on calling you during my break at school to tell you the news. As I started to dial your number a call from my dad interrupted. I could sense something the matter in his voice; I knew that I would not be able to make that phone call. I did not get to tell you how great I am doing in school. I did not get to tell you the good news about the procedure I am having in August. You were so concerned and just wanted me to do what I thought was best. I did not get to tell you that I am meeting new people, and how old friends are seeping back into my life. I did not get to tell you how good I have felt physically, I know that would have made you happy. The pain is still there, but it is becoming less and less. But worst of all, I did not get to tell you good-bye…
The family has been together a lot since you left. I find it hard to be around them because I feel like you should be there too. I feel an emptiness inside, and I do not know what to do. Recently I watched the video my dad made of me in the first year of my diagnosis. I turn it on, and there you are, waiting patiently for me to come out of surgery. You were always there for me.
I want to live my life the way you looked at me. You saw so much hope, strength, and love. You never let me forget that God has great plans in store for my life. And I now look forward to seeing what they are. I have already lost so much that I know there can only be good things to come from here.
I know that my life is a handful to some, but I am happy with the woman who has come out of all this pain and loss. I am stronger, more grateful, and wiser for the things I have been through. Some may not understand and choose to walk away, but I will not change who I am. I am picking up the pieces and ready to start the next chapter of my life. Put in a good word for me in Heaven, Papa. I know I will see you again one day.
Life is full of ups and downs. I learned that the hard way. I cannot believe it was just four years ago that I was diagnosed with cancer. Sometimes it feels like just yesterday when I was going in for my first surgery, but sometimes it feels like ten years ago. The word “recovery” means, the regaining of or possibility of regaining something lost or taken away. I have not stopped recovering in four years. My life was changed in an instant, the girl I was before cancer is no longer inside of me. Sometimes when I am getting to know someone new, I wish they could have known the person I used to be; full of life, athletic, confident. And although I am happy with the person I am today, I still have a hard time understanding when things continue to be taken away from me. I miss the little things like going for a jog around the block, sitting indian style on the floor while playing cards, and riding my quad off into the distance just to get away from everyone for a few minutes. I miss friends that for whatever reason felt like my life was too much for them. I do not put any blame on them because I know that I can be quite a handful. I miss going to a church where everyone knew who I was and being constantly reminded by them that they are all still praying for me. I miss going out and not having to explain to every person that I talk to that this is how my voice sounds, and I am not sick. I miss going in to routine doctor appointments and not having a clue as to what the doctor is talking about, and not having this knotting feeling in my stomach that more bad news is on the way. But right now, what I miss most of all, is my big papa’s voice. I miss being able to call him up on a bad day and letting out my frustrations to him. I miss him telling me that everything is going to be okay, and always reminding me that God has big plans in store for my life. I miss hearing about his daily routines and questions about pain or his medicine and being able to assure him that everything is normal, I know what you are going through. And what I miss more than anything is talking to him on one of my good days, and seeing him perk up from the happiness and joy he felt by seeing that I was doing great.
On April 28, 2010, I woke up thinking of you. In four years I was at a high that I had not felt in a very long time. All I wanted to do was tell you how amazing I was doing. I planned on calling you during my break at school to tell you the news. As I started to dial your number a call from my dad interrupted. I could sense something the matter in his voice; I knew that I would not be able to make that phone call. I did not get to tell you how great I am doing in school. I did not get to tell you the good news about the procedure I am having in August. You were so concerned and just wanted me to do what I thought was best. I did not get to tell you that I am meeting new people, and how old friends are seeping back into my life. I did not get to tell you how good I have felt physically, I know that would have made you happy. The pain is still there, but it is becoming less and less. But worst of all, I did not get to tell you good-bye…
The family has been together a lot since you left. I find it hard to be around them because I feel like you should be there too. I feel an emptiness inside, and I do not know what to do. Recently I watched the video my dad made of me in the first year of my diagnosis. I turn it on, and there you are, waiting patiently for me to come out of surgery. You were always there for me.
I want to live my life the way you looked at me. You saw so much hope, strength, and love. You never let me forget that God has great plans in store for my life. And I now look forward to seeing what they are. I have already lost so much that I know there can only be good things to come from here.
I know that my life is a handful to some, but I am happy with the woman who has come out of all this pain and loss. I am stronger, more grateful, and wiser for the things I have been through. Some may not understand and choose to walk away, but I will not change who I am. I am picking up the pieces and ready to start the next chapter of my life. Put in a good word for me in Heaven, Papa. I know I will see you again one day.