I don’t often talk about my family. I like keeping them to myself like some highly classified secret 🤐
Truth is, a year ago the biggest thing on my mind was me, myself and I. My journey, my issues, my future, my life. Which in itself was a major departure from my previous life where I tried to hide who I was and put attention on others. In a way I feel guilty about being so self-absorbed. Especially now.
At a time when I’m just beginning to live my life as myself, I’m reminded about the struggles around me. Case in point, my mom. Here is a woman who taught me my whole life to be strong and fight for what you deserve. She never backed down from life’s challenges. And 2 years ago when she got diagnosed with cancer, she took life by the horns and the family dubbed her the IRON MATRON (being a nursing matron). After chemo and surgery she went into remission and we all rejoiced. Another win for the iron matron.
Unfortunately, after a year in remission, it’s back. And this time the chemo is much stronger. I stress about mom’s mental state. I stress about how aggressive the treatment is this time. I stress and wrestle with thoughts that she isn’t as strong or confident as she was the first time. But ultimately I stress about losing a woman who has become my template of womanhood. My template of strength. My template of kindness. I stress about losing a woman I’ve hardly gotten to know as a daughter.
So today I’m sending a prayer into the universe. May whomever holds the strings of life, or writes the numbers in the register, please look inside her heart of hearts and grant her hearts biggest desire. Whatever that may be.
My dad continues to amaze me. You’ll recall from previous posts how initially it was my greatest fear to let him in on my secret. How I worried he would be the ONE person to reject my journey, and how eventually last year February when I told him, he turned out to just love me no matter what.
Well, yesterday we visited again for Easter weekend, and I dolled myself up in florals. And although him and mom still struggle with the pronouns, they correct themselves the whole time. Conversation go from him to her and back to him and back to her in a fluid waterfall of pronouns all day.
But at some point my dad paused ... and said ... just because we struggle and mess up your pronouns and names, please don’t think for a single second that we don’t accept you or your journey. We love you. And we are trying.
I stopped caring about pronouns some time ago. Funny how that happens. But this sudden validation from my dad mid-conversation was perhaps my favorite moment of the day. Don’t for a single moment think we don’t accept you or your journey.
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