experience number two

Now that I already told ya'll I was going to spend time this week writing about past experiences...

well, I'm kinda nervous now. 

Don't worry, I'll still write my experiences, 

but I don't want anyone to think that I'm trying to write some of these for any type of sympathy. 

And I'm not trying to make anyone sad. 

I recognize that everyone goes through different challenges in their lives 

and I simply want to talk about some of the challenges I have had. 

I feel like I'm at a good point in my life and after many years of being scared to open up about things, 

I'm finally not as afraid anymore.  

So, with all that in mind...here we go...

I'm a bit of a daddy's girl. I am and always will be. 

Dad's are there to look up to. To watch over you. And to love you.

They protect you, they give you advice that you sometimes don't want, and they give you hugs that you love.

Today, whenever I need to talk to my dad, I write letters to him.

He passed away when I was ten years old. 

He was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS) years and years before, 

and by the time I was eight, he was completely bed-ridden.  

The thing is, I don't remember ever thinking something was wrong.  

I remember my mom giving me children's books that taught about MS.

I remember Hospice workers coming to my house weekly.

I remember having a pen pal in Florida whose dad also had MS.

But I never remember thinking that one day my dad wouldn't be around anymore.

When you're a kid, you don't worry about things like that. 

Your parents are invincible and there's nothing to ever worry about. 

Well, when I was in 4th grade, that all changed. 

It was exactly one week after my 10th birthday.

I came home to find a house full of people.

Hospice workers, my Bishop from church, my mom's close friend.

They were all there.

I don't remember the words that were said to me. I hardly remember anything.

I do remember walking back into my dad's room and having him tell me he loves me.

I didn't want to stay though. 

I went to my room and cried until my mom's friend came up to tell me that it was over. 

My best friend at the time came over with her dad and they took me and my brother 

home with them for the night.

I think the mind of my young self tried to protect every bit of innocence it had left,

because I don't remember much of anything else. 

I'm sad to say I don't have many memories of my dad either.

But this experience has shaped my life in so many ways. 

I'm strong because of it.

I'm understanding.

I have the desire and need to help others.

And I've learned the importance of "I love you."

I can't ever say that I'm grateful for losing my dad, but I'm grateful for the person I have become because of it.

One of the letters I've written:

15 Nov. 2009

Daddy,

I wish you were here with me still.  I always get excited for November to come because of my birthday, but once it actually gets here I just think about you all the time and miss you.  I miss you so much. I wish I remembered you more.  I don't really know much about you. I'm so close to mom now.  She's like my best friend. I wonder what kind of relationship I would have with you now.  I like to think I would be a daddy's little girl.  Thanks for always being my hero.

I love you so much,

Your little girl