|Posted by SOJA on August 6, 2012 at 1:00 PM|
Even though you are all special to me; the people I'd hope to admire in strangers, I can not forget where I come from. I come from a family that is filled with love.
I was born into a very big southern family; a family that loves each other, everyone, and has southernisms that I will grow into as long as I'm with them. I love my family and I know that they love me too. Nothing could be more factual of that than on the day of my uncles wedding.
There were so many family members there; so many talks, gifts, and wonderful moments that will be forever treasured. My family is very close to one another, which people find very strange. Most of the people I've come in contact with have parents or relatives that don't like each other. As a matter of fact, they hate each other. I can't imagine hating my grandmother and grandfather. They are so lively, spry and hilarious! My cousins and I are closer than anything. We would always have play dates as kids, go to the movies, and just mess around. My uncle and aunt, they are practically my older brother and sister. These relatives THEY are all so precious to me. I would never think about having a deep hatred for my family.
Don't get me wrong; I've had my little episodes where I just flat out hated my father and mother, especially when I was being selfish. If I didn't have my way, I would act like a completely different "thing": a monster. I have a very, very, VERY BAD temper problem, but I never took it out on anyone (before I got older). In sports, I took my anger out on opposing teams in soccer. I'd knock them over, kick them, and sometimes, I would never even apologize for it. In school, I would throw temper tantrums. I'd throw chairs, beat up my little brother, and just scream. Ever since anger management, I've taken a different technic (since that class didn't help that much). Since I can't express myself out loud without tears running down my face, I just think of all the horrible names I could call my own parents. They make me mad sometimes, they make me hate them... I know I don't mean it at all. I love my mother so much, but sometimes my father can be rather difficult, I admit.
However, if anything were to happen to my father; if he never comes home one night, or I hear he's been hurt, I would break down and cry. My father has had two knee surgeries already. When the doctors told him he can no longer stand for a long period of time, it made me worry about his job. I was scared for him and I always felt that he was going to be in a wheelchair.
That didn't happen at all. He fought through his pain, got a new job, and everything's great.
For the longest time though, I thought my dad always hated me. I was never the child to have long conversations with. I was the middle child and a recluse. Plus, I was always getting yelled at whenever I did the tiniest things. I never thought those things pissed him off. I always thought my dad hated me for all these years, but whenever we talk in private, we get much closer. Sometimes we talk about our bonding problems; I may have the skin tone and look of my father, but we are on opposite sides of the spectrum. We would eventually work things out through talks in road trips and small get togethers when my brother, sister, and mom weren't around.
There was one time where my dad truly showed his love. I had to go away for the whole summer, to watch my great grandmother. For that summer, I would call Dad on occasions but I had to give my great grandparents my full attention until summer was over. Dad came to pick me up and he held me so close, just like when I was little again. He told me he missed me and that's when I really knew my father truly loved me. Sure we had our moments but they happen so quickly. I almost feel bad that this is a fonder memory. At my graduations he cried for how proud I made him too, but this moment is so much more special to me.
As a little kid, I was always a daddy's girl. Since then, I've grown out of it in a way. Though there are times when my father is there for me. I should know better that he always will be, I know he'll just keep pulling me back in to his warmth. When he yells at me for my wrong doing, I'm not going to curse him out like some fool. He is my father. He brought me up and raised me. He was there for my first meal, my first steps, my first bike ride. He bought my skates and scooters. He and my mother were the first people to tell me that they love me. They brought me into this world and I truly believe fathers deserve much better these days. I love my parents and I know they love me too.
With my brother, I've always told him I've hated him the most. That was never true. There are times when he does get on everyone's nerves with his antics, but we all know he's just acting this way to entertain himself.
The problem I have with my brother at times, is the fact that he is like ME at his current age. I was a naive, buffoon. I SEE myself in my little brother. I SEE how badly I mess up in his form. How much I DON'T want him to be like me. I strangely see my younger self in PJ. I don't want that. He doesn't deserve what I have outside this sanctuary. He has no idea how bad it can get being like this; like someone who didn't plan ahead and work things out for themselves. I don't want that for my little bro, or anything worse than what I have now. I can't stand the thought of him being a bum; having to dance around the corners of the Bellagio for pocket change. It's a horrible thought.
He acts just like I do. With the stuttering, to the talking to myself on occasion when I'm alone. I'm afraid he will end up just like me. I won't have that. I treat my brother the way I wanted to treat myself: with harsher teachings. The more I do it, the more he hates me... I deserve it, but I'm trying so hard to stop. I just can't though... It's not going to be easy, but I will try. I'll try for my little brother. I can already sort of see him grow, but I have to help him with that growth more than anything else.
Family is something that you can't take for granted. No matter who your favorite relative is, never let them go and forget them. I realized at my uncles wedding, my siblings, parents, and cousins aren't getting any younger. The more we grow, the further away we get from each other. If this continues, they'll be gone in the blink of an eye and we'll never know how wonderful they truly were.
Please hold onto your family. Hold onto your friends; your girlfriends, boyfriends, galore because they should mean everything to you. They've shaped who you are in many ways. Whether you were born in the countryside and know the southern sayings like me, or you have that special lady or man to help you grow as a person. Or you even have yourself. You look at yourself in the mirror and you've already realized what kind of person you are. You don't need anyone to tell you what kind of person you truly are and being able to think of who you are can be a lot more powerful. Hold on and never let go. I will make sure that I never let go of any of you. You are my second family and letting you go would be like letting you fall.