A Rough Thanksgiving, Yet So Much To Be Thankful For

I sit here writing this post, while sitting in a chair, by the woman that immediately accepted me because I simply treating her granddaughter well and love her unconditionally. She invited me into her heart and her home and has accepted me just the way I am. Rarely a cross word is ever exchanged between us. But today has been one of the hardest days since I came to live with her and Callista over nine months ago. It has been hard watching a person that has shown you so much love and told you were worth a million bucks. She was not well off when I came to live with them, but she'd go to the hospital for a few days and we always hope that it will give her the strength to move forward and continue living. 

Yet, at this very moment, I sit in this chair by her bedside and ponder how I went through this same thing with my father. Frequent trips to the hospital, always wondering if it would be the last one. When my dad was called home over seven years ago, his quality of life had so drastically declined that he just had nothing left to give. I see much the same woman whose bedside I am sitting by. She's never recovered since losing her husband over ten years ago. Much in the same way my father had declined rapidly after being put on oxygen due to COPD and being told that he could no longer do the things that we knew him for.

Going through a situation like this with more than one loved one is heartbreaking. I didn't always see eye to eye with my father, and still probably carry residual anger towards him for treating my mother the way he did. He wasn't there for me or my sister when it counted. The only thing he gave freely was money. He had been beat down by so many people and spent so much of his life saying, "I'll show you that I can do this." Yet he did the same thing to me and when he was alive he always made it a point to say that I was incapable of doing anything with my life because of my mental health. The same things that he never would have accepted from his own father. I never would've been in the position to chase my dreams like I do today if he were still alive. 

Sometimes I feel guilty, because in the nearly seven years I've tried so hard to get past the bad memories of him by replacing them with good ones. But the truth is he could never be the father that I truly needed. He never accepted that I was just a bookworm who loved books and music. 

Yet, here I sit, in the hospital, inspired to write, even on a day when I should be down for the count, being thankful for what I have and the chance to give back to those in need. 

I feel truly blessed, and even though I'm uncertain about much which will happen in the future, I'm just grateful for today. 

Callista told me yesterday that my family had given her so much. That aside from her grandparents, no one had shown her the love that my family has. 

I truly believe that we are put on this Earth to love and surround others with love. For you can have everything in this world, all the gold in Fort Knox, fancy cars, clothes, and houses, and yet if you have no love, all that material wealth means absolutely nothing.

So here I am, feeling blessed and thankful for another day to spend with Grandma, no matter the circumstances.