Dear Diary,
Throughout my teenage years I had a tendency to give my parents grief...maybe even before those years. However, now that I am an adult, I find that no matter how hard I resisted, my parent's loved me anyway. Mom and I had it the roughest. Dad once told me, with a chuckle, "one day you and your mother, will be very close and you will look back on these days and laugh." Well, dad was right. We may not have always looked back on those days fondly, but we did chuckle about them from time to time.
I won't lie, I was the average teenager. the average rebel and the average offspring. I didn't do anything overly exciting with my teenage years like play sports, or be in the school play, though I did want to be, shyness overwhelmed me in that department, but I did become a writer then. I lost myself in fantasy world's and action stories, where I was the hero of the story, instead of being the hero of my life, but that role was taken. Yes, it's sounds mushy, but my parent's are my heroes.
They taught me values and lessons, they let me make my own mistakes and they had the right words, even if they didn't make sense at the time, for a broken heart. I didn't date in high school, not by choice, I guess I was just too shy and too awkward. I did have a date for prom, so don't feel too bad for me. Cute friend's come in handy for those occasions. haha! This isn't a pity entry Diary, this is just a memory.
My parent's always made me feel like a million bucks, even when I didn't think they cared, because they didn't understand me (sound familiar my family who are all parents now?). They told me I could be anything I wanted to be and two weeks before mom died, she made me promise to not be afraid anymore, to be strong and to follow my dreams. She said, "babe, age doesn't matter, if you can do it, do it." And so now I am moving forward in that direction and seeing where the breeze takes me.
I love my mom and dad. I love that after my mom passed away, dad kept living and didn't fall into the hole that many people, including myself temporarily, fall into. I love my mom for being strong, even while facing death, and most of all, I love that no matter how long I have/had both of them, Each moment counted to them. Every good moment, every bad moment. From my heart surgery at three years old, to the day my mom woke up from her comatose state to say to me, "I love you babe, but why are you here?" (her last words to me). Even the day we said goodbye to mom, and dad I began our "new normal" in life.
Diary, I thank you for every thought you have listened to. For your patience with every boy I crushed on. For the moments when I finally began to understand myself. For listening to me when I didn't make sense, for patiently sitting through my whimsical idea's, and most of all, for helping me to see that it was the love of my parents that saw me through each of those moments, even when they didn't realize it.
Dear Diary, I may have written on your pages, but all that you know, my parents do too, and no offense to you, but they are/were "the diary" that hugged and loved back.
Until tomorrow...call someone you love who made a difference in your life.
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