#cyrus: i am reliving one of the worst days of my life
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wild to do the creche astral prism sequence and not want to throw up about it...
#yiseeril: this is my guardian angel who loves me sososososo much uwu#cyrus: i am reliving one of the worst days of my life
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Archives of a loss
Three excerpts I’ve written at three very different points in my life. The first being from December of 2014, the second for World Cancer Day in 2015, and the third posted on what would have been his 56th birthday in March of this year. A lot of personal growth has been achieved between the times of these three entries, and for my own reference, it is interesting to see them all side by side.
I don't think anyone really realizes how hard it is to lose someone until they're actually gone. I think a lot of us take the people in our lives for granted—especially our parents. We're wrapped up in this notion that death doesn't happen or if it does, it happens later on in life. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but death does exist and it doesn't hesitate to take anyone at any age. If you see your dad or your mom today, don't hesitate to hug them and tell them you love them because some of us can't do that and would give anything just to see them again. Honestly, the greatest thing in the world is when he visits me in my dreams, and I get to hug him and see him healthy and happy again—it's been a very long time since I've seen him that way. Even if they're only dreams, I feel like he's telling me he's okay and that I should be too. The funeral is probably the easiest part to deal with because you have the wonderful luxury of denial and everyone hounding you 24/7 to make sure you're okay. Once that's over, the reality hits you like a bus—randomly. You'd think, "Oh, it's only going to be hard on the anniversaries and holidays." Wrong. Sure, they're difficult sometimes, but loss hits you randomly, like a truck on the interstate. People ask me how I do it or how I handle things, and I'm going to be honest: I don't. My faith in God and my faith in my dad help exponentially because I know I will see him again, and I know he's right here with me—I believe that with my entire being. If you think I talk about him too much, you're absolutely wrong because I do not talk about him as much as he deserves. He deserves to live on through me and his family and friends, and I hope that I can emulate him and the love he has for all of us. Fifty three years was not enough for him, but I'm thankful to have gotten to spend almost seventeen of those as his daughter. Here's to the future and cherishing every single moment that comes because we don't know how many we'll get.
Cancer, as Miley Cyrus would say, came in like a wrecking ball into my life in the most personal way possible. "Cancer, my name is Stephanie. You killed my father. Prepare to die." I really just wanted to throw in random references, sorry about that. Anyway, yes. A lot of you know my dad, Steve, passed away last May after a five year battle with this terrible disease. If you knew him at all, he is easily one of the greatest people you could ever meet (everyone says that, but I'm not lying). He had such a big heart and such a passion for life, and he was so stubborn that he stayed here on earth for a couple years longer than he was really supposed to. He cared about others, went out of his way to help people (even at his worst), gave me my sense of humor amongst other attributes--essentially, he made me into the person I am today--and he fought as hard as he could until the end (he was still climbing stairs at stage four, even on the day he died). I mean, I am a little biased. I'm a total daddy's girl, but you can't really blame me: He always stood up for me, and if I were ever having a tough time, he would find a way to distract me from whatever I was going through at the time and make my day a little brighter. Sure, things weren't always perfect. We had our rough patches, but I believe that all of these experiences have made me stronger, and I am so thankful to God for giving him to me. I am so incredibly blessed to have shared nearly seventeen years with such an amazing human being. I wish some of you could have gotten to know him more. He is my inspiration, and I wish to emulate him in a multitude of aspects. Back to the original topic... cancer. I'm not going to lie to you: It's a terrible disease. Sure, you probably know that simply from hearing about it, but you don't truly understand until you experience it first-hand with someone you love more than anything, especially within your own home. There is no possible way to describe the feeling. Hearing about it is one thing, so is seeing it portrayed in films and on TV, but physically seeing the one you love slowly deteriorate day after day? Watching their short life slip from their eyes as they take their final breath? It sucks. It simply sucks, and I'm putting all of this nicely with no detail at all whatsoever. Don't let me publish my life story, unless you want to feel a plethora of emotions. This is sort of a jumbled mess of an unfinished multitude of things I wanted to say, but I want people to take something from this. Enjoy your life, and seize the moments you have left. Tell the people in your life right now how much you truly love and appreciate them. Life is too short to be miserable--let alone to be making it miserable for others. People mold us into who we are, so why spend your whole life holding grudges for things that mean nothing in the long run? There is something to learn from and something positive to gain from every single person you encounter in your lifetime, even if they have negatively impacted you. Be kind to all those you meet, and be spontaneous. Appreciate those closest to you because they won't be there forever--some of us (or at least I know I) would give anything to be with someone again. Take advantage of and cherish the moments you have now because none of us really know how many we have left. I am thankful for all of you who have been so supportive throughout the years. I wish every single one of you the absolute best, (and thank you so much for taking the time to read this if you actually did).
Loss tends to affect different people in different ways—a platitude of sorts, but it's true. I spend a lot of time thinking, reminiscing, and sometimes even reliving in my dreams. I switched from being the passenger to the driver with an empty seat on trips to the river, the metroparks, or on routes once taken regularly by two. I've acquired multiple road signs without a partner in crime. I make extra care to stop and admire landscapes, sunrises, sunsets, and starry nights. I talk to what seems like myself on occasions of both sadness and gratitude. I sit alone in a field, where others only seem to go on special occasions. I look at old photos for hours on end (and I've struck gold on a few occasions 😆). I find myself gleaning together as many as people as possible in creative ways on the occasions that are hardest to deal with, without saying why. I find myself putting on songs associated with so many memories and attributes and fought when others would try to change them. I wear a lot of oversized male clothing, which happens to be at least half of my winter/fall wardrobe, even when people who don't know make comments. I wear a necklace that gives me a major scare every time I can't feel it around my neck (but it's always there). I think a lot about what is being missed as I grow and accomplish more and more—graduation, acceptance into colleges, attending U of M (like someone else had to do for a semester), trips around the world—which will turn into (hopefully) a college/graduate school graduation, a wedding, the birth of some miniature me's, and years of further growing into who I was meant to be. I want to thank you for being by my side when no one else would. Thank you for making such an impact and allowing for me to grow in a multitude of ways. Thank you for providing for us—giving me a home, food, and education, but also your/my name, many road signs, newspaper comic strips, years of laughter, special projects, adventures, memories, and my life. I miss you, but I think you know that. I love you, but I think you know that too. You will live on.
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