Grateful

ReAnna Pierce

 

“Mom.”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything; an amazing childhood, two incredible sisters, an awesome father, and for being my mom through it all.”

Growing up I remember always wanting to run away from home, move to California with my biological father and go to Disney land every weekend. I would delude myself that I would be without rules, attend a cooler school, be able to stay over at friend’s houses, not have to be under lock down constantly, and be an only child. 

I really scold myself now for believing that, and I appreciate being set straight finally as a young teen. The summer that I turned sixteen my mother gave up trying to ‘protect me’; I really feel awful for putting her in that position. Plunging her into depression, subjecting my sisters to her being angry at me, but taking it out on them. I hurt my family. I am grateful to have all of them in my life still today. I squandered my time with them; by always daydreaming about wanting to be with my father, feeling like it was such torture to have two annoying siblings, and being the most ungrateful brat about the amazing lifestyle that my mother and father provided us. 

As an adult, I am now a mother, a stepparent to three children, and each day I can see more errors that I made as an adolescent. I now have the utmost of respect for my sisters, my father, and my mother. Even after all the years of my antics they still love me unconditionally and rarely to they bring up my past. I appreciate them for that, but I do a lot of my own self reflecting. I know that I was in the wrong for so many years and I now do my best to appreciate the time I have with my family; after so many years of taking time for granted I refuse to be that selfish again. 

Life has been an incredible journey thus far, and it would be for nothing if it were not for my family. Each year our numbers fluctuate but the bond gets stronger, with every life we experience death. But this year I truly do not want to wallow in the pain of loss; lost time, loss of family members, friends, jobs, pets. This year I want to embrace what I have and be grateful, because there have been plenty of times that my family could have said ‘NO MORE’ and walked away. 

Although, my life would be meaningless if it weren’t for this one human; my son, Nickolas. His sparkling blue eyes, full of curiosity and mischief. His smile is probably the most contagious; I am pretty sure that if I were to take him to a peace meeting with the world leaders all he would have to do is smile and give everyone a hug and all everyone would melt. I am very honored to have him in my life.

I want to use this outlet to say that I am grateful for my opportunities, my family, precious time, second chances, last breaths, hugs and kisses, all these wonderful things are what make life worth living. I hope if you’re reading this you find even the littlest things to be grateful for. 

Happy Holidays,

Re

This is Goodbye

ReAnna Pierce

Standing in the doorway of the double pained, sliding glass, I cautiously entered. My eyes darted to the large bed that held my beloved elder captive. As quickly as I could I emptied my hands and joyed my grandmother at your bedside. Sleepily your eyes met mine and I lost all composure. My eyes filled with the salt and sting of tears; pure fluid emotion just raining from my face, all my love, anguish, fear, relief just began to pour. 

The entire ambiance of the room was infuriating; crowded by machines with wires and tubes that led in and out from under your blankets. Blood stained linen littered everywhere, your aged delicate skin was riddled with bruises. I wanted to use my simple-minded methods to tend to your wounds, fully aware that those were the least of our worries. The most intimidating and vital tubing was the bright red double garden hose that ran into your fragile femoral arteries. My imagination cannot even begin to replicate the pain that you had been experiencing. The overwhelming feeling of wanting to volunteer and take your place hit me like a gigantic bookcase collapsing over me. I reached down into my toes to regain the strength to harden my face and be ready to fight for you and be your voice. 

Your voice…

That is the last thing that I expected to find; that you would be silenced by a huge cluster of tubes. Raw tong, chapped lips, dehydrated mouth all painfully menacing you with each breath. The only means of communication was the batting of your eye lids; two blinks for yes and three for no. Senselessly I would ask you questions, say things that you would respond to but this was not possible and we would never share another conversation. I am so sorry for being so discombobulated and stressed.

Our conversations used to be full of intellect and advice. Your advice about caring for vehicles, who to vote for, career decisions, opinions of my significant others, and not being shy to tell me when I was wrong. Most of the family would simply pass you by as they entered the home. I would make it a point to find you and give you hugs and kisses a tradition that I passed on to my son.

“Pay the toll” I would tell Nicky.

“Hi Papa!” he would exclaim.

Although your age should have hindered you from picking him up, you would always manage to lift him to receive your hugs properly. The pride and happiness that I would see in your smile reassured me that I was raising him right. Your opinion of a “good man” was the frame that I wanted to build from. I strived to make you proud and in our final moments together I felt that you were. 

Disappointing you has always been my biggest fear, and I am thankful that it has only been twice that I have. Once as a teen when I came home an hour after my curfew, the second was much worse. By simply refusing my kiss goodbye you let it be known that you were extremely disappointed. I wasn’t fooling anyone; especially you, that I was using meth and you were not going to condone it. I quickly left your home in tears and refused to go back until I was back to being me. Thank you for waking me up from that nightmare. 

Your final breaths were so deep and raspy. Oh, the relief I felt when they loosened the strap that removed the horrid tubes form your sore ridden throat. I massaged your jaw, hoping that you would feel that relief of salivating your dried-out mouth. But you were sleeping so deeply that you were completely unaware of the failure of your lungs, kidneys, and heart.

Your perfectly kept mustache was finally released from that hard-plastic brace; I had fought with myself not to remove it and allow you’re a few moments of peace. But peace would soon come my Papa. I will forever cherish being granted the privilege of being by your side your last few moments of life. 

Even with your last breaths I was reminded of the happiness and joy that you brought into my world. Our midnight scrambled eggs, prickly mustache kisses, and stinky feet wars with Nana. My childhood would not have been complete without you; and I do wish that we could have had more time to laugh and smile together. I was not willing to sacrifice any part of you in order to do it. Memories will never fade and my love for you will always stay.

Thank you for being my Papa.