I dedicate this to you…

I dedicate this to you. No, this isn’t some sad story about a deceased family member. This is not a tribute to my past or future self. This isn’t even an advice column where I sit here for three and a half minutes and tell you what to do with your life. But what I will say is this. There comes a time in your life, whether you’re young or old, where you feel reborn. Your eyes open and you can see, but this time for what the world really is. You not only open your eyes, but your heart.

It began with your Crohn’s disease. You were a beautician, you loved what you did and you had the life you wanted. You were forced to stop because of the evil that attacked your body. You vowed to not get discouraged, and go down and defeat. Little did you know. Diverticulitis, followed by  anemia, end stage renal failure and gout. Graves’ disease, eczema and most recently, diabetes. You were diagnosed with all of these, at such a young age too. I can’t even begin to predict how you felt, how much pain you had to have gone through. Enough is enough, right?

You have nearly every disease in the book. God spared your life and didn’t give you cancer. It was such a shame you couldn’t say the same thing for your mom. Stage 4 lung cancer. She lost her hair. She was sent to Houston to get treatment for six months. Thankfully she survived, she’s healthy and living along with the love of her life watching her three successful children continue to achieve their goals. It’s heartbreaking you can only see two of your three do the same. Your son, he died of SIDS when he was just a month and half old. My heart aches for you, you’ve had such a hard life, you’ve never asked for it and you certainly have never deserved it. I couldn’t predict the future but if I could I would have warned you, I would have prepared you for what was to come. You got worse as the years went on, not only your health but as well as your life.

You were hospitalized for six months. The first Christmas without you was rough for everyone. It was the first Christmas I didn’t feel jolly or warm inside. Your house… It burned down while you were in the hospital. Giving you the news was probably one of the hardest things our family has had to do.

You’ve been married twice, a somewhat successful first marriage that ended sadly, and a verbally and emotionally abusive second marriage that complicated your life even more. You got sick during that marriage, he took not only all of your money, but the money of your two kids’ savings account.

Here you are today, battling your diseases. You can barely walk, and yet you wake up every day at 4a.m. – not by choice, but because the pain caused from what you have forces you to – and you get to work. You make beautiful wreaths, amazing food, and run around all day every day for people who need favors, or food, or wreaths. You are selfless. You are kind. You are beautiful. And nevertheless you are my best friend. You would think that with after every surgery you’ve been put through, you’d pity yourself, you’d be empty and cold. But when you wrap your arms around me every time I see you I feel nothing but love and warmth.

I have almost lost you a couple of times in my life, and while I could still continue the sad and painful life you’ve lived, I know that’s not what you would want. You’ve wanted nothing but for people to see the good in you and you’ve done much more than that. So I dedicate this to you granny, my best friend, for teaching me that life is far from perfect, but it’s the joy you bring upon yourself with the choices you make that make it pretty damn great.