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This next post, is the story behind my Blog Title, where I came from, and the definition of my present being. 

I had the typical teenage disconnect from my parents. I was rebellious, careless and fourteen. I was reclusive because the yelling made my head pound and the alcohol burned my nose. Hateful, jealous, and solitary emotions pulsed through my veins. My childhood memories were clouded by my parents reckless, irresponsible behavior, and nothing was going to allow them to see the damage they were inflicting upon my sister and me. Who knew that all the pain they inflicted would be minimal compared to the pain I would feel to lose him. That single event would be a monumental turning point in my life - the catalyst to making me the person that I have become.

I woke to everyone rushing about the house, and my mom's daycare was closing sooner than usual. I noticed her eyes were bloodshot and tear stained; her hands were trembling and lost. She took my little sister into her seemingly lifeless arms and they fell apart together. I knew. I knew exactly what happened. No one had to tell me. I was spinning and all the things around me were becoming a blur. Taken by an act of nature. A life cut short. A brain aneurysm. He was alone when it ruptured, leaking blood into his brain. A subarachnoid hemorrhage they called it. My dad was dead, and there I was stiff, and for once, unemotional. They say I was in shock but I declare otherwise. We always had a simple understanding, my father and I. This was no exception. It wasn't easy-no loss of any kind is-but as the wind tickled my face that hot July afternoon, I smiled because once again he had taught me something: to embrace what has been handed to you, including your life.

So I began the next year a new person. That next softball season I put more sweat and effort into the game. I had a better attitude towards my teammates and with each hit I smacked that ball as if he could catch it. I painted more too. Even as a kid, I was his "little artist." Now, I picked up brushes and colored pencils every chance I could; he was my new found inspiration. I knew he would be proud of me. I began to appreciate my mother more and more each day despite her continuing problems with coping. I tried to look past her imperfections to find her redeeming qualities. It still hurt, but trying to find the good through the bad became my salvation. The simplest things took on new meaning, and even though I was still unsure about my dad's absence, the emptiness left room for another. God became my best friend. I began to let go of the resent and hurt that was a hallmark of my childhood. I learned to rely on my extended family and learned that no matter what, my family was my rock. Good and bad, they were there for me. And so here I am. The new me. The changed me. I'm not so naive about the world being a perfect place; I can see it now in a more clear perspective. For the day my dads eye's closed, was the day mine were opened.