Cherish: Family is Choosing
Okay, new day, new post. I have thought about this one a lot. I sat yesterday with my sister at a cancer treatment center. We were sitting with my dad. Right after my 40th birthday (whew!) my dad was diagnosed with stage three throat cancer. In typical fashion, we rolled up our sleeves and prepared for battle. The tumor was non-surgical, so the treatment plan is six weeks of radiation and six weeks of weekly chemotherapy treatment. Yesterday was chemo 2--I know that is a certain percentage done, but I'm an English teacher, so I just know 2 down, 4 to go!
Chemo began last week. My sister and I sat with my dad during his treatment, and we also treated ourselves to a leisurely, sister-filled lunch. I love hanging out with her, and my dad was in great spirits. This week, when I got there, my sister was there, and I was ready to hang out. As the IV dripped, my dad napped, and my sister and I enjoyed the company of someone you can be with without having to say anything. I was writing, and she was on her phone, probably doing something for someone, because she is totally THAT person.
I knew that on my new blog I wanted to tell a story about my dad, because its been in my heart for a long time. You see, dad married my mom when I was in the fourth or fifth grade. He didn't have to, but during my sixth grade year, he made the decision to adopt my sister and I. Family is about choosing. I remember being in the judges chambers when we signed the papers. I remember dressing up (I still love pretty dresses) and I remember crying a little bit. It was something I will never forget.
My teenage years were tumultuous in the way that all teenage years are. I have been called dramatic, and maybe that's true, but I tend to think I just have hyper aware emotions. I think its why I love teaching high school so much. I recognize that all those feelings that as adults we can sometimes brush off are real and intense and important. Needless to say, I had a lot of emotions when I was a teenager, and most of them were unpleasant. My dad was smart enough to give me enough rope that when the time came for him to step in, I did not question his authority.
Dad was not a big talker. He probably is, but in our household of three LOUD women, he just never had a chance. So, when I graduated high school, and my dad took me out to the country because he had found me a car (a Renault Alliance that I did not cherish and killed off in dramatic, fire-y, melt-y episode) I was excited to get some one on one time with him before I left for college.
The thing I will also remember about that trip, is when my dad told me that he loved me and he knew that I could do anything I set my mind to. I remember sitting in rare silence, and him taking a breath, looking me in the eye and telling me that. I have never forgotten that, and I never will. You see, when you are a man who chooses his words as wisely as my dad, every single one of them counts. It mattered--he meant it--it meant everything to me. I have tried to live up to those words, knowing that he would love me no matter what.
Family is about choosing. My sister and I didn't have to go to the treatment center--we chose to. My son didn't have to come up there and sit with me and take me to lunch--he chose to. My daughter didn't have to come home from her friends house because I needed a hug when I found out my dad was sick--she chose to. My husband doesn't have to put up with my ridiculousness--he chooses to (notice this one is ongoing).
See, I know everyone cherishes family, its what human beings do. But, for me, family isn't the people who are genetically attached to you. Family is about the people who chose to be there for you. I am surrounded by family everywhere I go, and I am blessed.
Chemo began last week. My sister and I sat with my dad during his treatment, and we also treated ourselves to a leisurely, sister-filled lunch. I love hanging out with her, and my dad was in great spirits. This week, when I got there, my sister was there, and I was ready to hang out. As the IV dripped, my dad napped, and my sister and I enjoyed the company of someone you can be with without having to say anything. I was writing, and she was on her phone, probably doing something for someone, because she is totally THAT person.
I knew that on my new blog I wanted to tell a story about my dad, because its been in my heart for a long time. You see, dad married my mom when I was in the fourth or fifth grade. He didn't have to, but during my sixth grade year, he made the decision to adopt my sister and I. Family is about choosing. I remember being in the judges chambers when we signed the papers. I remember dressing up (I still love pretty dresses) and I remember crying a little bit. It was something I will never forget.
My teenage years were tumultuous in the way that all teenage years are. I have been called dramatic, and maybe that's true, but I tend to think I just have hyper aware emotions. I think its why I love teaching high school so much. I recognize that all those feelings that as adults we can sometimes brush off are real and intense and important. Needless to say, I had a lot of emotions when I was a teenager, and most of them were unpleasant. My dad was smart enough to give me enough rope that when the time came for him to step in, I did not question his authority.
Dad was not a big talker. He probably is, but in our household of three LOUD women, he just never had a chance. So, when I graduated high school, and my dad took me out to the country because he had found me a car (a Renault Alliance that I did not cherish and killed off in dramatic, fire-y, melt-y episode) I was excited to get some one on one time with him before I left for college.
The thing I will also remember about that trip, is when my dad told me that he loved me and he knew that I could do anything I set my mind to. I remember sitting in rare silence, and him taking a breath, looking me in the eye and telling me that. I have never forgotten that, and I never will. You see, when you are a man who chooses his words as wisely as my dad, every single one of them counts. It mattered--he meant it--it meant everything to me. I have tried to live up to those words, knowing that he would love me no matter what.
Family is about choosing. My sister and I didn't have to go to the treatment center--we chose to. My son didn't have to come up there and sit with me and take me to lunch--he chose to. My daughter didn't have to come home from her friends house because I needed a hug when I found out my dad was sick--she chose to. My husband doesn't have to put up with my ridiculousness--he chooses to (notice this one is ongoing).
See, I know everyone cherishes family, its what human beings do. But, for me, family isn't the people who are genetically attached to you. Family is about the people who chose to be there for you. I am surrounded by family everywhere I go, and I am blessed.
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