Wednesday, January 4, 2012


I wonder what my Nana would do, how she'd handle something like this.

Would she tell me she constantly feels for me, that's she's sorry this happened to me, or would she be strong, and help hold me up?

Would she tell me I was born to play this role?

Would she she tell me I've been training for this my whole life?

Or would she cry for me and to me a whole lot?

Maybe a little of both.

It's the hard times like these that make miss her dearly.

I know I'd hear from her more than once a month. Maybe even more than once a week. She'd be so involved, whether I asked for it or not.

That much I know.

What I also know is that there is a lot of her inside of me.

And my mother.

I've got the spirit of strong family women inside my soul... and for that I'm very lucky.

Those strong women are also sensitive, and smart.

I've learned a little from all of them, and have perhaps been using that to build my toolbox my whole life.

I've been packing for this.

This is it. This is no doubt the hardest thing I've ever had to do. To be strong, and not completely run away from this scary, scary thing.

Reaching into my toolbox every step of the way.

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