Showing posts with label Death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Death. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 3, 2018

The Lord Giveth....a DNA story with a happy beginning

A picture from the first day we met in
person, with the heart rock she gifted me
I've been wanting to write about this for a few months now. I've had to give myself some time to wrap my head around it all first. It's not anything I really expected to happen, but maybe in the back of my mind I hoped for it without allowing myself to dwell on it.

Most everyone who's been here knows that I lost my little sister 4 years ago. It's been a struggle since then to be an only child. Lonely. Funny to say that, you wouldn't think it, since I have such a large family with my husband and children. But it's true. I lost the person who grew up with me. Someone I spoke to often, even when we didn't always agree. National sibling day on social media only made it worse,  and holidays were a sore reminder of what was missing.

I knew that there was a possibility of having other siblings out there from my biological father. I didn't know him well. Visitation stopped when I was 4, likely because he was a severe alcoholic and ended up homeless now and then. I met him once when I was 11, while in foster-care, when he came to court to help my mom try to regain custody of me. The visit lasted maybe an hour, and I vaguely remember he mentioned 2 younger sisters. I didn't have any other information though. I did try to track him down once I was an adult, but wasn't successful and he passed away in 2005, which stopped me finding out anymore. I figured that door was closed permanently.

Our father in about 1980
Fast-forward to this past summer, when on a whim, I decided to jump on the DNA testing bandwagon with my husband for Amazon Prime Day and ordered tests for each of us from both Ancestry DNA and from 23andme. Once the tests came, I figured I'd learn some health info on the 23andme and maybe track down some relatives and learn about my heritage. Ancestry.com didn't pan out on tracking anyone who knew my father down, and that was the one I pinned most of my hopes on, since it was the one I'd heard most about.

By the end of August, I finally got my results from 23andme. There, at the top of my DNA relatives, caught my attention and made me catch my breath. Half Sibling. I don't know how long I stared at it before it fully registered. WHAT?! Was this real? Could this be real? A sister. I had a sister. Her name was right there. Dayna. It gave her last name too, and it wasn't a common one.

I don't know how other people would've handled this, but I did the most stalker-y thing I've ever done and looked her up on Facebook. There was only one person who came up with her name, and she lived in the same state as me! I went through pictures, looked for a resemblance, looked at her family members, pictures of her life, and then when that checked out as being a normal, non-psycho looking person, I sent her a message on 23andme.com and I waited. And I waited. And I waited. A few days later, when talking to my aunt about my discovery, and my hurt and embarrassment that I hadn't gotten a response, she encouraged me to send a message on Facebook, saying maybe my newfound sibling hadn't seen my message. So I gathered up my courage, set aside my pride and did exactly that.

"I hope this isn't uncomfortable or weird, but I'm wondering if you're the same Dayna..... who came up on my 23andme DNA relation match. I won't bother you again, but if you're open to a conversation, I'm here. 🙂"

And then I waited some more. I got a response the next day:

Dayna.... accepted your request.
Dayna Kinzel
That's me 🙂
Who are your parents?
Nellie
(Information removed for privacy)
Dayna Kinzel
Omg!!
Seriously!
We are sisters!!!
Are you serious?
Nellie
I am very serious
Dayna Kinzel

Nellie








We spent a lot of time over the next several days messaging, then talking on the phone and then eventually setting up a visit. I was excited, terrified, hopeful, fearful.....We learned we'd grown up in much the same way. Both of us had been in foster-care. Both had difficult childhoods we'd overcome. Both were married with children. The more we learned, the more we wanted to know. And we very quickly came to love one another.

She's better at expressing her emotions, I think. I can do that in writing, but when my emotions are that caught up and strong, I have a harder time, due to fear of being hurt. But when she went with me to a procedure I had in September, the anesthesia took out my inhibitions and opened the floodgates as I came out of it.

I woke up crying and apparently told her how happy I was that I wasn't alone anymore and how much I loved her, as well as how excited I was to be an aunt to her children and how scared I was they wouldn't like me. I did this all while clutching her hand.......Yeah....I put it all out there. Which she said she loved and appreciated because it made her feel more secure that she wasn't the only one invested.

Dayna knew of my existence, though didn't know my name or much else. She had more time getting to know our father, though not a whole lot. She took the test before I did, hoping that after 10 years of searching, hoping and waiting, that something might turn up. She said she lost hope after a while of getting nowhere and finally set it aside. Until the day I messaged her.

First family gathering together for one of my daughter's birthdays
We want to find out more together, and maybe there's a possibility of us finding the other siblings out there. She says she's pretty sure we have 2 brothers and one other sister. But we don't have much info to go off of, and they haven't come up on the DNA tests we took.

We've spent time with our families together, gone to each other's children's birthday's, started a new Christmas tradition in painting ornaments together, and even had Christmas dinner together! I'm overwhelmed with gratitude for this major blessing in my life. I have wonderful friends, and amazing family. But to have a sister, to have that relationship possible again after I thought it was gone forever.....I'm so humbled. I'm so looking forward to building this relationship with her and her family. We've had a great beginning and I'm hopeful of our future!



Thursday, February 26, 2015

It's About to Get Real

I know it's been a really long time since I've written. I've been trying to get my life back on track, which, I'll be honest, hasn't been easy. I was really shaken with the death of my sister in July, 2013. I thought I was doing okay, but a year later, when the fog cleared from my mind (that's the best way I can describe it), I realized I'd been on autopilot for that whole time.

When I "woke up" I could see how much I'd been missing in what was happening around me. It's hard for me to admit publicly that I wasn't holding things together as well as I wanted to believe I was. I believed I was broken. I thought I would never again feel okay, but I did my best to fake it because I had a family to take care of, and they needed me to be okay.

I pulled back from the world. I stayed home most of the time because that was easiest. I wanted my family to be home with me too, which really, wasn't fair to them, but they complied quite easily most of the time. They were and are the most important part of my life (outside of God) and I wanted the comfort they gave me. Unfortunately, they weren't getting the full part of me at home either though. Really, when you're on auto-pilot, you miss a lot. I missed a lot.

When that fog cleared, and I suddenly felt more aware, alert to what was happening in the world around me, I was ecstatic! I wasn't broken! I could be happy again! I felt hope again! The pain is still there, and always will be. I love my sister. I miss her. But I can see that I still have so much to be thankful for in my life. And I know my sister is in a better place.



That suddenly clarity wasn't all sunshine, rainbows and unicorns though. I realized how far I'd let things go around me. My preschooler had been coloring on the furniture, the walls, you name it. And while I knew it was happening, and took the things from her when I caught her, I did little to prevent it further and rarely cleaned it up. My once relatively clean and organized home (as clean as it can be with 8 people living here!) was the most cluttered, disorganized, out of sorts as I've ever let anything get (let's just say I once was OCD about the shape of my house, and while having so many kids relaxed me, I was still very much into keeping things in the kind of order that wouldn't make everyone completely insane, but was very comfortable and wouldn't scare away company! Haha!) I won't even get started on the shape of my yard! Ugh!

Besides the shape of my house, more importantly, there was also the emotional well-being of my children I needed to address, and the relationship with my husband. They got use to the new me (foggier, reclusive, less active....well, you get the gist of it).  They didn't want to burden me with their problems. And now that I was awake and wanted to jump back in, that took some adjusting to get back on track. It also took some convincing that I could handle whatever they threw at me! Something they'd never doubted before this tragedy.

It hasn't been easy to jump back into being social either. A lot of times I feel really awkward in a group, but I never regret getting out there. Being a recluse for that long is a hard habit to break though! I'm working on it....

Grief is a strange thing. I'd thought I could get through it in the same ways I've had to before. I'm not a stranger to loss. I've lost a lot, as so many have, really. But the hardest loss was my baby sister. That went beyond any pain I'd felt ever. I'd heard it would take time, but when days, weeks, months passed and I wasn't able to bounce back the way I'd been able to in the past, and eventually I was sure I never would. Oh ye of little faith......

Ultimately it was God who woke me up. I recognize His hand in so many things that made me keep going. He didn't go easy on me, He knew what I needed to get through this and He never abandoned me, even though at times I thought for sure He had. He knew I had to keep moving to move forward, and I was a resistant, stubborn,
pain in the butt at times, I'm sure!

I'm having such life-changing, faith-affirming revelations as a result of the trials of the last two years. One of those is that these are the things that make us who we are. These are the things that draw us closer together. These are the things we learn most from and help us grow.

So while I can't promise to be here daily, I can say I will try to do better. Writing has always be therapeutic for me, and I've always loved sharing what I learn in life, so there are two great reasons to be here!

Friday, September 13, 2013

When Unspeakable Things Happen

Alix Norman before her murder. You can help her mother here.
I grew up in a small town called Brigham City where I experienced both the good and bad parts of small town life. One good thing I remember had to do with a girl named Chrishell, whom I knew in high school. I saw her as bubbly, happy, easy-going, friendly and non-judgmental--that part was a big one for me, because I'd experience a lot of negative judgement growing up the way I did.

Chrishell always had a huge smile on her face and she was beautiful. She often invited me to go to church, but I never took her up on it, because that was during a time when I had turned my back on God. She never judged me for refusing her. She would just smile her beautiful smile and ask me to go another time. I genuinely liked her, but we never saw each other again after we graduated, and she became a distant memory.

That is how it remained until the unspeakable happened and I found out through Facebook that the tragedy I'd read about on the news had happened to Chrishell. I couldn't fathom it. How could something like this happen? When I'd first read about the apparent murder-suicide of a stepfather to his 16 year old stepdaughter, it both saddened and sickened me. But finding out that it happened to someone I used to know and liked and respected, took it to a whole new level.

I've kept up on the story since then, hoping to find out something that could make sense out of something so senseless. But really, it will never make sense, and my heart goes out to her and those others of her friends and family who were floored by this awful event.

When I got up this morning and got my kids off to school, I saw a picture in my newsfeed on Facebook which got my attention. It was a picture of Chrishell's daughter, Alix, with a link asking people to help her. I can't do much, but I figured I should do whatever I could. And one way I can help is to spread the word.

Some friends of Chrishell have set up a website to accept donations to help her through the financial part of this tragedy. If you can't afford to donate anything, please help to spread the word. Let Chrishell know that people care about her, and that her Heavenly Father loves her, by doing His work.

She once extended her hand out to me. Now I want to help her.

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Working to Move on

My main purpose of starting this blog was to help people, and yes, to journal my family's journey as we go along. I still want to do this, and I hope that sharing what's been going on in my life now has been okay. This was a shock to me (understatement!) and writing is how I vent.

Anyway, I will always love my little sister and I'll miss her until the day we meet again. I don't want to drag anyone down with that. I just wanted to share her with you. She was an amazing person.

On a different note, we've had some other things going on during all of this. We've taken advantage of our Pass of all Passes a week ago for the first time this summer and I have some concerns about how it's going. It's our third year with the pass and I'm not sure I like it as much as we used to.

I'm thinking they've oversold them. To say the venues are crowded doesn't begin to paint an accurate picture. We're going to try going on a weeknight and see if that's any better. Also, a heads up on the Sandy Seven Peaks Fun Center location: it's for bowling only, and they really should change the name to reflect that. Not only that, but they charge $3.50 shoe rental, so it's not quite free with your pass (which is only valid Mon-Thurs).

There's some other things I wanted to share, but am gathering more info before I do. So hopefully I won't fall off the horse again and will be better about updating here. The kids go back to school in less than two weeks and I can't decide if that's going to give me more or less time! :)

My Tribute at Melanie's Funeral

I've been asked several times if I spoke at my sister's funeral. I did. It was the best way I could think to honor her, to share her with those who didn't know her like I did. Some of what I said I'd written here, after I first found out we'd lost her. But over the week before her funeral, I thought of more I wanted to say. Here it is for those who wanted to know what I said:

Writing this talk was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write. I wanted to get it just right because I want to do Melanie justice. It’s hard to describe her to those who don’t know her. She was a very diverse and complicated person. She was the type of person who made you realize that you should never judge a book by its cover, because she never fit in to any of the stereotypes.

I keep seeing her as a child. We were always together. She was my little tag-a-long. Sometimes it drove me crazy, but many times in the turmoil of our young lives, having Melanie with me was such a comfort. Things were certainly never boring with her there, she was so excited and curious about life. She was always a spit-fire too, with beautiful curls that got her complimented as a “little Shirley Temple” more than once.




I couldn’t help but be protective of her. We never knew what she was going to do next, she kept everyone on their toes and she loved to shock and surprise us—including the time she asked me to close my eyes, put out my hand for a surprise, and when I opened my eyes---behold! It was a spider! Yeah, those were good times!

We sometimes fought like siblings do. Some of those fights resembled a Junior WWF match. But Heaven forbid anyone else hurt one or the other of us. I remember a time when she was being bullied at school in the first grade. I yelled at the kids who were being mean to her and threatened them of what would happen if they touched her (since I felt invincible at a whole two years older than her). I recall saying something along the lines of, “No one can hit her but me!” To which Melanie yelled out, “yeah!” Then realizing what she’d just agreed to, she turned to me, shaking her head a little, “what?”



She had my back too. And in those times in our lives where we were both scared or hurt, we knew we could count on each other to be there. Life took us different directions, as we reacted differently to the trials of our lives. But our love for each other never changed, even as we changed in our adulthood.

When our father died, she never really got over that. She was always Daddy’s girl and I can still see her as a little girl, playing that song by Red Sovine over and over again. She would sing along to the chorus, “Daddy’s girl, Daddy’s girl, I’m the center of Daddy’s world….” She tried to find and hold on to the things that reminded her of him. She was ecstatic when she got into contact with his two older children, Kristy and Ron. Family really was important to her.



What you saw when you looked at Melanie was a woman with several tattoos, piercings (when she had them in) and extremely curly—sometimes frizzy hair (compliments of our beautiful mother). Sometimes it was even streaked with her favorite color, purple—it all depended on her mood at the time. She was unconventional and liked to dress to please herself, whether that be a comfortable pair of sweats, Betty Boop pajamas while shopping at Walmart, a costume for a Harry Potter party or some crazy Goth get-up. She even had a favorite cape she would put on for special occasions. She just didn't care what people thought.


What you didn't see when you looked at her, unless you took the time to get to know her: She was extremely generous. She'd give you the clothes off her back—literally. And the amazing thing about her generosity is that she didn't expect anything in return. She loved unconditionally, and I’m not saying that just because it sounds good. It didn’t matter what you did, once she loved you, it was forever. She forgave, even when someone did what most would consider unforgivable, and she didn't hold a grudge either. I've never known anyone who did that as freely as her. Never. And I'm sure I never will again.

She was there for whoever needed her, and did whatever was necessary to get to the place she felt most needed. She stayed with me in the hospital after my first daughter was born, because I was afraid to be alone and my husband needed to be home with our son. And if you’ve slept in a hospital sofa-bed, you know that night she spent there with me was not a comfortable one. But she never complained to me about it. She seemed happy to be there and was the perfect loving aunt.

Melanie loved her animals like they were her children, even more so when she learned she would never have any kids of her own. She sobbed when she lost one of her beloved pets and even asked to bury her oldest companion in my backyard because while her housing status was often up in the air, she knew we were planning to stay put and she wanted her Cocoa Baby to be where she could visit. She would let herself be homeless rather than go to a place that she couldn’t take her pets with her. Chicko and Princess had a wonderful mother in Melanie.

She loved my children like they were her children, and just a few days before she died, she was the only one who thought to call my 3 year old to personally wish her a Happy Birthday. And my kids love her too. Aunt Melanie is the “cool one,” or the “fun one.” She’d come over just to introduce them to a new game.

I had to be extra careful about telling her anything my kids liked or were interested in, because she would take money she didn't have to spare and spend it on something she knew they would enjoy. She did the same thing for me. I would scold her for it, but it never did any good because she'd just do it again anyway. It was her way of telling us she loved us. Truly, thinking back on her life over the years, I’d say the only person she could have shown more love to was herself.

While I like to think I know a lot about my sister, there were things about her I didn’t know until recently. I didn’t know she kept meticulous notes on just about anything-whether that be a household to-do list, a grocery list, things she wanted to remember to tell someone or, even, as I found out when going through her things this past week, a list of scriptures to look up, learn more about, or determine the meaning of. I didn’t know she kept a journal, or that she kept a book of sayings to read everyday with her husband. I didn’t know she’d talked about what she wanted done with certain things when she died. I didn’t think to ask her those things because I thought we still had time.

I guess I’ll have to wait until after this life to learn more. I don't know how I'm going to do without her. Thirty-two years was not enough. Not nearly enough. But I'm so glad I got to have her as my sister. She’s no longer in pain and that’s a good thing. She’s with our Heavenly Father and with Daddy. I have no doubt he was there to greet her when she to passed to the other side. So rest in peace, Baby Sister. We’ll be a forever family and I’ll see you again someday.

My Sister's Obituary

Melanie and Mike the day they were married.
I thought about posting the link to my sister's obituary before, but decided I would just cut and paste it here instead when I felt ready. It was changed by someone before it was published. I wasn't happy about those changes, though they were minor and no one would have known but Melanie and her husband.

What were the changes? Spelling. I'm the first to admit that I'm not always perfect at catching my mistakes when writing something, but two of the changes made were not mistakes.

My sister was given a nickname by her husband that she really liked. It made her feel special, which she totally was. He called her Sweetpea. They spelled it as one word and she even made a profile on Facebook with it spelled that way. So I honored that when writing about her, because it belonged to her.

The other change was what bothered me most, though I got over it. They changed the spelling of her dog's name. The reason that most bothered me is because I have a memory of Melanie attached to this. The proper spelling to the common world for her little Chihuahua is "Chico." When she stayed with us for a while about a year ago, I saw his dog tag. Knowing what his name was, I laughed and said, "Mel, did you know that you've got his name spelled wrong? It says 'Chicko' here." She got a bit defensive, and said it didn't matter how it was spelled to other people. She knew his name and it was the way it was supposed to be. I couldn't argue with that. Look at how people change the spellings for names and other things all the time to suit themselves.

To confirm though, I asked her husband before writing her obituary how he wanted me to spell their little one's name. He confirmed what I already suspected. So that's the way I did it. It got changed. Honestly, during those days leading up to the funeral I was probably looking for a fight to let off some of the steam I had brewing in me. Thank heavens I didn't let it loose though. I'd have regretted it, especially since the targets would have been those who did the most to help during this extremely difficult time.

So here it is:

Melanie Sue Anderson Adams, 32, of Logan, passed away unexpectedly in her sleep on July 20, 2013. She was born in Brigham City, Utah on June 7, 1981 to Julie Ann Vasquez (living) and Ron Alvin Anderson (deceased). She was married to Michael Jeffery Adams (living) on August 2, 2008 in Logan.
Melanie, known fondly as “Sweatpea,” enjoyed playing video games, reading, spending time with those she loved and writing poetry, which she hoped to one day see published in a book. She had a big, beautiful and generous heart and would give her last dollar, even if it meant she went without.  She didn't expect anything in return. She loved unconditionally, in every sense of what that word means.
Before her passing Melanie was working on getting her high school diploma and also preparing to go to the temple with her husband to be sealed for time and eternity.
Melanie was preceded in death by her step-father, DeVerl Anderson; her grandmother, Artheta Anderson; grandfather, Vern Anderson and great-grandmother, Nellie Campbell.
She is survived by her sisters, Nellie (Tony) Butler and Kristy Anderson; her brother, Ron Alvin Anderson, Jr; her grandmother Judith Vasquez and several nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles and cousins. Also surviving are her two dogs, Chicko and Princess, whom she loved like they were her children.

Anyway, Melanie knows that I honored her wishes and did it the way she would have done, and I told her husband the original way I had it too. That's all that matters. For those who want to see her tribute wall, here's the link: Melanie Sue Adams Obituary

Monday, July 22, 2013

Let's be honest, I'm not Okay

I've been getting that question a lot: Are you okay? How are you feeling? Or some other variation. I understand the mentality behind it. And I myself am guilty of asking questions like that after someone has gone through a tragedy of some kind. I know what people want to hear when they ask it, and I try to give them that answer.

Last night, after helping to go through my sisters things, to help her husband clear out their motel room, I was asked that question. I tried to give the stock answer and it came out on a sob. That's because it was a lie. I'm not okay.

I just lost my baby sister. It wasn't something I saw coming. It wasn't something I was even remotely prepared for. I'd worried for her, sure. I couldn't help that. But I didn't expect to wake up in the morning and find two missed calls from her husband that came at 2 am, and have things spiral from there.

We were going to take the kids to Seven Peaks, to finally use those passes we bought months ago for the first time. We got up early and was I was giving instructions to my kids when I noticed that the phone by my teenager's bed said it had voicemail. I thought that was strange, since I knew I had checked it before going to bed. I was surprised to see the time stamps on the Caller ID. Who would call at that time?

The message was from my sister's husband saying it was important to call him back as soon as possible. Twenty minutes later he'd left another message saying the same thing. That was odd and unlike him. I wondered if my sister was in the hospital. She'd been having terrible pain, especially in her back, and had just been diagnosed with a degenerative condition. I tried to call him back, but got no answer. So I tried her number, no response. I sent her a facebook message. Nothing. I called my mother, also no answer. So I called my Grandma. She said she'd also missed two calls just after 3 am.

It left me feeling unsettled, and I tried again to call her husband, but still got no answer. After talking about it with my husband, we decided to continue with our plans, but to keep trying to reach someone to find out what was going on. So we made breakfast, joked with the kids during meal time, cleaned up and then started to get everyone dressed. Between this time, I continued to try to reach someone to find out why we got those 2 am calls.

We were nearly ready to go, when one of my daughters brought me the phone and said I'd missed a call from my sister's husband. So I finished pulling my hair back and dialed his number. I don't even remember what his first words were. All I remember is that somewhere in there were the words, "Mel passed away last night."

I doubled over. No way!!!! I'd heard wrong. What?! No! No! No! No! And since that moment, I have not been okay. I keep seeing flashes of her. Remembering the good times. Agonizing over the bad ones. Thinking of how wrong this is--how unfair.

And then I still have to function. I have a husband and six children. My children need me. There are things that they need done for them. Band stuff for my son. Soccer stuff for one of my daughters. Appointments. Paperwork. Registration stuff....But I'm barely able to form a thought that doesn't have to do with my sister and what I have to do to prepare for her funeral--how to get through this day, the next day, this week....

Much needs to be done. Of my family, I'm the one most capable of doing this. Melanie's husband has the full support of his family and they're very willing to do everything--but this was MY sister. I can't let them take all the responsibility. She was MY sister--my only sister. I have to be there for her. I have to.

On top of this, I worry. What will this do to my grandma, who is already in very poor health? But most of all, what will this do to my mom? To lose her child--her baby. As it is, my mother's life is difficult, to say the least. But this...This is beyond difficult. There are no words strong enough to describe it. Right now though, she's handling it. She's surrounding herself with my sister's things, and trying to be strong for me, as I am for her.

So, to sum it up: No, I'm not okay right now. But I have my family with me, some very good friends and I have my Heavenly Father, and with them I will get through this and one day I will be okay again. I'm not sure how long it will take, or what steps will get me there, but second by second, I'll get there.

Saturday, July 20, 2013

I Lost My Baby Sister Today

Even typing it brings the tears back. I can't believe this is happening. Is this real? I wish I could wrap my arms around her and talk to her in a less hurried tone than that last time I talked. I wish I had more patience and understanding for how she was so forgiving and loving to a fault. I hated to see others take advantage of her generous nature.

If I could talk to my little sister again, I would say:

Melanie Sue, you were and are such a beautiful spirit. I wish you had an easier life. It certainly feels like you had more than your share of knocks. Growing up, it was my responsibility as a big sister to protect you. We didn't always see eye-to-eye, and when we fought, it was sometimes drop-down-drag-out. But we knew we were there for each other. Never did we let anyone else hurt each other. We were the first to come and fight for one another.

I remember a time, when we were little and had a fight over something stupid. Hours later you fell asleep and I watched you. I remember wanting to tell you I was sorry for being so angry with you, and I picked up your hand. It struck me how small it was and I felt such shame for being upset at all with you. I felt that protective instinct kick in and I stroked your little hand and whispered that I loved you.

Adulthood brought different challenges for us. Still we managed to keep in touch and I always wished I could do something to make your life better. I wanted to fix things for you. I never was able to. You were an adult and made your own decisions. Not to say you were always wrong. You have always been so generous and I worried about people taking advantage of that. I couldn't stop being the protective big sister, but know that I have always loved you and admired your heart.

I don't know how I'm going to get past this. I'm angry. It's not fair. I see all these people who still have their families and throw them away. They cut them off for stupid reasons and won't talk to them or give them the time of day. You were my only sister and now I've lost you. I still want you to be a part of my life, and while I do believe you still will be on another level, it won't be the same. I miss you already, Melanie.

I know you're with Daddy now. I'm sure he was the first to greet you when you crossed to the other side, along with Grandma and Grandpa. Give them my love, sweet Melanie, and save some for yourself. You have no idea how much I'm going to miss you. I love you so very much.

I'm trying to take comfort in knowing that this means you're no longer in pain and that you are finally at peace. I know I will see you again, I only wish that day could be sooner.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Hard Times


Just when I was actually doing better than I have in a long time in keeping up here, I got the wind knocked right out of me. My stepfather, Stub, died a few weeks ago. It was something I saw coming in the weeks before, but really it all happened so fast. In September he was sitting in my kitchen eating the salsa I'd made and laughing with me over this and that. Then in the following months he lost his ability to drive, then walk, and even, in the very end, his ability to talk.

I know that death is a part of life. I also believe that he has gone to a better place where he can again do all those things that he'd been unable to during his last days on earth. I know that it's only those who have been left behind that are having a hard time with this. But it's still difficult nonetheless to realize that I can't just pick up the phone and get him on the other side of it anymore.

I have to remember though that I truly have been blessed to have him be a part of my life. In fact, I've come to realize while reflecting on all of this that I've been twice blessed in such a way. You see, my biological father was never a part of my life. The first man I called "Daddy" was my sister's father. He had the most beautiful heart and opened his arms to me when I was just a baby. Despite his turbulent relationship with my mother he always kept his arms open to me, as if I really were his natural daughter. He was an alcoholic though, and didn't care as much for himself as he did for his children. He died almost exactly 15 years ago. He was the fun one. Easy-going to a fault and open-hearted to the end. He was what I needed as a young girl to feel wanted, loved and accepted.

I wrote this for him: Forgive Me, Daddy

And then there was Stub. He was opposite in nearly every way. With the exception of whole-heartedly accepting another man's child as his own. He was responsible, hard-working, stable...he was a rock. He helped to show me what a father's role was. He helped to guide me the right way on the path to womanhood.

I wrote these for him: Shadow Of a Man and Mourning a Loved-One's Passing

Both these men filled a role I needed at the time I most needed it. Both have inspired me in different ways. Both are gone now. I am now truly without a father. But I can't leave it at that. It would devalue the lasting impression they've left with me. I have to think of the immeasurable gifts they gave me before they left this world.

I hope I haven't confused you all with my rambling thoughts here. My history is hard to follow, I know, but it has shaped me to be who I am today--and so I can't say that I'd change it. Everything happens for a reason. And I guess it's time I remember that and do my best to move forward.