In that transition after my dad died and my sister went to college, my mom was learning how to live without her husband and be a mom alone, while I was trying to understand what had just happened and get through high school. It’s weird, I have heard kids who have lost parents and turn crazy or rebellious. I didn’t go crazy, but I had a hard time adjusting. It's like you come to this point where you have a choice. You can live like the world owes you something, and let the anger and loss eat you up until you self-destruct, or you can take what you have been through and grow. For a while I was numbing it all with life as a teenager–parties, ditching class to surf, with this whole “ WHAT IS THE POINT” attitude. It took a combination of therapy, going to Panama, and growing the hell up to understand that there is so much to life. Talking to family friends now, there were a few people worried about me; I think that is so embarrassing. I never want to be the kind of person who dwells or gets caught up in the bad things that happen to them. I actually feel very torn between accepting what has happened, and knowing that so many people experience much more loss or pain than I have. It is hard to find a medium between appropriate grieving, and (I don’t how to say it but) GETTING THE HELL OVER IT. I hate that it makes me feel like something sad has happened to me when things could be so much sadder, and really I am so lucky.
I almost feel guilty for being sad, or angry with what my family has gone through, you know? It could always be worse, who am I to complain? Whenever I talk about my parents, and their struggles with cancer, I feel the need to conclude the conversation with “ but I am so lucky, I mean so many people have much worse things happen.”
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