Letter for the day is "F"

It is still so hard to say the words- “My dad has cancer”

 

It has been two days since we found out.  May 20^th. That stupid date will be forever etched into my mind. I took the day off originally to do things around my house and I am so grateful because it let my mom come and tell me and be with me for a long period after- so that I was not alone. Thank GOD for blessings in disguise. If he hadn’t suffered through the whole kidney stone ordeal- they might not had found this until his next scan in 5+ years and we could have been fighting a whole different battle than we are lucky to be fighting now.

Out of 21 biopsies, only 3 were 10% positive for prostate cancer.  They caught it very early and we have lots of options.

It makes me think of the first time I remember death being present in my family. My mom’s side of the family was very young and large, and my dad’s side was all older and so my first recollection of death was a very old member of my dad’s family. I remember the funeral, everyone was sad- and that is it. Then all of the great grandparents were gone and my paternal grandfather got sick (originating with prostate cancer) and fought long hard years with his cancers until he passed after a brutal struggle. My mother’s sister who passed from breast cancer at the age of 32 was the first time that I was slammed with the realization that death comes at any age- any time- and without mercy. My maternal grandmother passing from her 10+ year struggle with cancer was more recent and fresh.  It is hard to put my FATHER into that category. He is not SICK. He is not OLD. It is very hard for me to think of him as having this disease that will change all of our lives forever.

When I tell people who I need support from, saying “My dad has cancer” seems so foreign and almost vulgar to me. It makes me sick to my stomach. But I know that just like everything else that my father does- this will be handled on his terms, his way, no highway option. He is strong in that way. He will not let this slow him down. He will take the most wham bam thank you ma’am approach that will get him back to his daily routine the quickest.

And just like in every other thing that happened to shape and mold our family into the living breathing being that we are today- we will get through this the only way that we know how. Together.

Confucius Say

It is easy to hate and it is difficult to love. This is how the whole scheme of things works. All good things are difficult to achieve; and bad things are very easy to get.
Confucius

Dog eat dog world...

I have been in a relationship for 5 years that has sucked me dry. It has left me a SHELL of my former self and I think I may be starting to see the effect it has taken on the life around me. I have lost friends, gained nothing but weight and distance from family members- declined financially, emotionally, and caused me to stray from my beliefs and values as a person.
I think my personality thrives on fixating on something and devoting my attention to it. He has been my addiction, my drug. Not because he was just so wonderful and left me feeling this euphoric high that I couldn't stop chasing but because he was something for me to focus on, to fixate on. From my years of attention to my mental deficiencies and emotional issues, my anxiety and my need to control things has lead to my overcompensation in fixation. I know that I have addictive habits. I know that he is my addiction.
I need something new. And I know.....as insane as it sounds- but just as rehab centers switch drugs for something to ease the withdrawls immediately- a puppy would be that for me.
I have taken care of Kevin- picked him up from the side of the road- cleaned him up when he was sick and picked up after his messes. I have made certain that his life is in order and that he has everything that he needs at every turn. I jump when he stirs and give in to his every desire for need to please him and keep him safe and happy. I do not think (and I know myself and my mind/ heart/ body) that I would be able to go through leaving him at this time with nothing to occupy my time, thoughts, and mind. To "replace" him if you will. I need to switch one drug for another in a sense. I need something new to fixate and devote myself to and in the past- that has been other men. Going right into another relationship will be the worst thing for me because I will be looking for the type of man to fixate on- and that is a habit that I am trying to break.
I do not want to repeat that cycle. I want to break free. Spend some time with myself and get back to ME.
I know what you may be thinking. Something like this, I imagine-
You CAN do it, you will be fine.
You need to devote yourself to GOD and you will be fine.
You can focus on GOD and or family and you will be fine.
You need to love yourself not another person/ thing/ animal, you will be fine.
You are stronger than you think, you will be fine.
You do not need something to fixate on, you will be fine.

But I know me, I know myself well enough to know that I really strongly from the center of my core, need to make this step. I have too much love to give and have not been able to do anything substantial (give or be able to receive) with that love for another non family member in a LONG time. It would be healing for me, therapeutic, strengthening, enlightening, everything to me. It would mean everything. I am getting ready to embark on a new life, new job, new car, new opportunities all around. I have so much to prove, to myself- and to others and I want to put all of my focus into proving to others that I am strong, I can do it, I am more than capable and since I will have no other distractions- I am positive I will succeed with flying colors given the chance.
I want to make the trade.
 

Sigh...

I have had a really rough last two weeks or so. Starting with the passing of my grandmother, the week at work was stressful enough and I climbed into this chasing an emotional plateau. I could not stabilize myself  emotionally and took it out on the people closest to me (Kevin took the brunt of it bless him) and unfortunately my Facebook wall took a beating. Sorry guys.....
All that I wanted was what my grandmother was a constant supplier of- affection. Emotionally saturated love. Things have been good with Kevin and I. But I pushed him- asking for more and more and more. And that was something that he just could not give. I picked fights when there was none to be had just so that he would have to console me. I could feel him wearing thin, but he did not waiver. Yet he was not fulfilling my irrational need for him to fill that void that was unfulfillable. I could not understand why they did not understand why everything was wrong. Everything anyone said, did, or tried to do- wasn't right. I was constantly angry, or sad. I have been a mess.

The funeral was amazing. It was shockingly hard for me to get through. My mother was my rock. She was comforting me at a time when she was facing the second hardest loss that she has ever gone through. She held me as I sobbed and my brother reached around my dad and held my arm as I clutched onto her for stability. That is just how our family is.
We are so large that we all could not fit on the front row, and we started to move chairs because we all just wanted to be together- as I sat behind my whole family with my parents and my brother I looked at how they all supported each other. One making the other smile, or my youngest cousin taking her brother's head in her hands and placing it on her shoulder as he began to silently sob. As one of my cousins began to struggle to breathe in between her sobs I pulled my chair closer to the back of hers and tightly wrapped my arms around her shaking body from behind and whispered into the back of her hair, "Breathe, just breathe. Breathe." until she calmed down. I know how it feels to not be able to breathe. To not be in control of your own body and not know why nor be able to stop it. I also know that there was someone there the first time that happened to me to hold me tight and help me breathe. Our family amazes me daily.

A picture is worth.....what? Venting!

I need to vent, and I need to vent fast.
Photos are my thing. I love pictures and the value that they hold. People take photos of happy times, to remember the smell, the light, the joy of a memory. People take photos of not so happy times. To remember a fleeting moment, gone too soon, never to be had again but wanting to be stricken in the books as having happened.
I have said before, and I will say until I die- I can not stomach when people say things like "Oh delete that one..." or "Oh that looks horrible!" or the evil, disgusting phrase that I have grown to despise, "No, no, don't take a picture of me."

Guess what?!?! There will be a day that no more pictures will be taken of you, and it is because you will be GONE. Then what? What are your loved one's supposed to remember you by? Your....clothes hanging in your closet? Your... art hanging on the walls? What?! If I didn't have photos of my Grandy- how would I remember that he resembles Elvis when he is not smiling, and that when he was smiling, it could stop anyone in their tracks. How would I remember the smell of the shop on his 'uniform' white shirt that he is wearing in so many of the photos that I have. I can almost hear his laugh when I see a photo of him in his happiest place, with us grandchildren. How would I be able to hold on to all of that love and all of that if I had nothing to look at, nothing to listen to, nothing to have and to hold? If I did not have photos and video of my Aunt Cheri, how would I remember that she was the most sassy and classy dressed woman that you would ever meet? That she always had her makeup done perfectly, and that she loved huge gold jewelery. How would I remember the sound of her singing loud to anything Mariah Carey in the middle of the living room if there was not evidence that it happened?
Yes, memories are good and fine- if you have a good one but if you are like me and do not then pictures will help me one day tell a story that I can not so easily remember. What if I want to tell my children about a grandfather that they will never get to meet? About my father's father and how he taught me to live off of the land. I can show them, there are hundreds of photos of him with us in the garden, or naked running around in the sprinkler on a hot day. I can see in a photo, his watchful eye, and almost hear his country accent saying my name in a firm tone as to say, "Amber, stop that." I can smell the Irish Spring soap on his skin when I am posing beside him in a family photo. All because I can see him. I can see his face. I can see his balding head, I can see his bowed legs. I can see him.
Maybe not every picture of my aunt, or my grandparents is perfect. Maybe their eyes are slightly closed, or their meds made them look 'puffy', maybe their hair was messed up, or maybe they had NONE. I certainly do not care a stitch if I look horrible, if there is a picture of me alive and well- I am good. At least my loved ones will have something to remember me by since none of us are guaranteed a second chance and tomorrow is not promised either.

I. Hate. Cancer

The cancer finally claimed my grandmother. She has fought this demon for 14 years. The year after she was diagnosed her daughter died of breast cancer after 6 months. But she fought on for her family. We have seen her bald, we have seen her sick, we have seen her healed. Cancer lived in her, yet we were given 14 more amazing years full of memories, forgiveness, and a whole ton of love. Enough of that talk, that ugly disease deserves none of my words. 

The last time I saw my grandmother was last Tuesday night. She was admitted in the hospital that Monday morning and stayed overnight for testing. The found that she had tumors and that there were options, they sent her home with the full intention that she would return the next week for Chemo....to fight- again. She came home to her house that Tuesday night, where I was staying with Tiffany so I was there and we sat on the couch and talked. We had grown apart several years prior to this one so it was the greatest gift that I have been given in a long time, to have those several hours with her- just like we used to be. We held hands and she 'hugged' my arm as we sat side by side on her couch in the living room where so many of my fondest memories were made. She rested her head on my shoulder and she kissed the back of my hand and we just talked.I am so blessed that point in time will be my last memory of her. Just how we were. 

The rest of the week went by and on Saturday (one week ago) she was not feeling well again and was admitted to the hospital Sunday morning. She would be rushed into emergency surgery to remove a large portion of her cancer stricken organs and she was on her way to recovery by Wed/ Thursday and was even moved out of ICU by Friday night. She was going to beat this, again. 

Saturday morning I awoke to my second massive migraine in as many days, but I took some meds and started cleaning. There were things to be done. There were children to be shuttled here there and to Homecoming festivities everywhere. Since her admittance into the hospital this last time, we have all taken shifts staying with Tiffany and making sure she gets where she needs to be in an as normal schedule as possible.
My phone rang, it was my dad. He told me to get dressed. He was coming to get me. I asked Why. He said, get dressed. 
I knew. 

There was no way that my father would have called me if something terrible hadn't happened. And it had. I called everyone I could think of to try to hear the words that I needed to hear. I needed someone to tell me. I called my 16 yr old cousin to see if her mother, my aunt was home- I could tell that they (the kids) did not know yet....so I played it off and kept calling others. I needed someone to tell me the truth. I was not one of the kids, I am no longer needing to be protected. I needed to know. I finally called my mother, thinking back now I am not sure why I didn't call her first. She told me. She told me the words that I needed to hear. The words that I already knew in my heart. I yelled, "What?! WHY?!" But I knew why. Her body was tired, her heart was weak and she was ready to go Home. 
My dad picked me up and drove my numbly to the hospital. I asked him when, he didn't know. I asked him if she was still in a room, he didn't know. My meds had made me loopy and I was nodding in and out. As soon as we arrived, I all but RAN to the elevators and went up, my brother was waiting for me there. He lead us to the room. I went right in, there was no hesitation. This was not my first time seeing....that. It was not her. She was not there. I sat with my mother and held my grandmother's hand. We stroked her hair and told her things. But she was not there. I know no one person who loves her Lord more than my grandmother does. I told my mother that I imagined her; loud as ever, HAPPY as ever, and healthy as ever- running into the arms of Jesus when He called her Home. That's who she was, that is who He made her to be. She was larger than life. No doubt she ran up to Him, yelling "Here I am!!" and rejoicing, HAPPY, laughing, singing, just like she was with us, but a million times moreover. 

She was never afraid to die, she was ready and she told us that all the time. She would miss us- no doubt. But she was ready to be with her Father in Heaven. And all of the ones who were waiting for her there. Her parents, the love of her life- my Grandy, her daughter Cheri, Kenny, her best friend Jane......
She was an amazing woman and will be greatly missed. She taught us about faith, love, and laughter. She was the tree trunk that brought our family to life and held us together. She taught us how to love and how to prosper as a family unit so that one day- this day...We could go on after she was gone from our arms.

Holly mother Fing Dodson.....Nichols

I recently had the pleasure of shooting the wedding of one of the most important people in my life. Holly Dodson. People ask how I knew her, who she is to me- etc... She was an ex's cousin and the first time I met her she rode her bike over to our apartment to burn a CD. Yea, old school. She was in High School and we were older so I judged and thought she looked hood with her stomach hanging out and her bleach blonde hair and holey jeans. She was one of those 'cool kids' who I never meshed much with in my High School days. We saw eachother at family functions and dinners and the next Christmas we got her maternity clothes and she was so mad. When we heard that she was pregnant- I thought nothing of it and I really don't know how or why we got closer and closer but on May 18th I took a "sick day" at work and stayed the whole day with her in the hospital when the love of my life, my Goddaughter Haylee was born. I stayed in the room from the minute after she came back in from her C section until late that night. I was present during nurse visits and checks. She wanted me there and I felt an immediate bond with her that we did not have before that day. When they brought Haylee into her room, she was still shaking so much from her epidural that she asked me to change her first diaper. I did that. I changed Haylee Faith Dodson's first diaper. And it was the first of MANY Haylee diapers that I would change. We had a bond the three of us, and so it was.
The reasons are neither here nor there but it was what it was and Haylee spent a great deal of her first three years with me. I taught her how to spell her name, her manners and when her birthday was and I watched her learn and grow. My family looked at her no different than our own. She was my biggest joy and I never once looked at my extended periods of time with her as anything more than my greatest blessing. She came at a time when I was grieving the loss of someone that left the exact shape hole that she fit into perfectly. She was my baby. I know at times I felt like I had more claim to her than I should have but she never was a burden- not for a single second. She was my responsibility. God gave her to me to love, to teach, to have and to hold- until the time came when her stars aligned once again and she would return to a routine with the ones who let me borrow her for a while.

I have seen Holly transform over the past three years in a way that I can not easily explain. I have seen and heard things that will never be spoken of again that makes Holly's current life a true miracle. I have never been more sure of God's promise of forgiveness and healing and renewal than when I look at Holly and Haylee. Brandon came into thier lives and I do not know nor need to know the details of how but he changed everything. He is the most amazing man and I am so very overjoyed that he chose to love these two amazing ladies. He loves Haylee as his own and he is so patient and kind. During my engagement session with Holly and Brandon I could tell immediately how much he loved her. He was crazy about her, could not keep his hands off of her and whatever made her happy- he would do without hesitation. He was chatting with me about the wedding details more than Holly was and you could tell that he was just beyond excited!

During the post ceremony shots Brandon was so patient and said, "Whatever my baby wants" when posed for another hundred photos. When I posed Holly with Haylee for Mother/ Daughter shots he said, "There are my girls!" It was the sweetest! Before the wedding us ladies were polling eachother on wether or not Brandon would cry or not. We ALL said yes, he would. He is the sentimental and emotionally intuned man who is the perfect match for the emotionally in need person that Holly's past has made her. She is more happy than I have seen her since I have ever known her and I love Brandon for it. His family is so kind and loving and loves Holly and Haylee with all of their hearts.

With each photo I pull up and put on the big screen I look over ever detail and I remember ever minute of that night. I remember Donna crying as Alan danced with his middle daughter on the dance floor then closed his weapy eyes, gently kissed her hand as he gave her to her husband. They bring me such joy to see the sheer happiness on her face and I can almost hear Haylee squealing as Brandon twirled her around on the dance floor. I can barely drive home fast enough to get my hands on these photos. I do nothing much else the last week or so. Work 8-5 at the office and come home and edit until 10/11pm... Many more jewels to come! Many more years of love and happiness to come for the great couple as well. <3

I love you with all of my heart Holly Dodson Nichols and I will continue to be there for you for always and forever. And of course- Haylee Faith, all my love, all my life....I love you to the moon and back.