A Thank You

Yesterday I briefly spoke to a family member and the conversation stayed with me all day. I kept racking my brain for something to say to her to reassure her that everything was going to be okay. And while I was thinking and worrying about her it finally dawned on me that I was being just like her. That I was just like her. And it made me so very happy!
I always want to make things right. I want to fix wrongs. I want to make people do the right thing. I cry too much over things and people I can't control. It hurts my soul to see my friends or family in pain. Or to see those I care about constantly make bad decisions. It makes me feel angry and heartbroken to see someone I love hurt by others and not be able to do anything about it. I lay awake too many nights worrying about what I can do to fix everything for everybody.  And it just about kills me that I can't. And as troublesome as that is sometimes I am so grateful that I am like that. That I'm someone who cares. Rather than someone who only cares about themselves. I will never be someone who puts my own needs ahead of others. And that's okay. I have a big heart. And I pray that one day I have an impact on someone's life like she's had on mine. Even if I never know.

Most people know or have read previous posts about my childhood so they know it wasn't always pretty. But there were definitely some beautiful parts! And one of the most beautiful things from back then was my Aunt Sheila. She was my role model of what a mom and wife was supposed to be. And she was a pretty great one! To me, she was just about perfect. She was <usually> soft spoken. Always had an easy laugh. Her smile to this day remains one of my favorites in the whole world. She had a lot of fun. And she loved her family so very much. I learned how to be a great mom from her without ever realizing it. I was an odd child. Difficult and different to say the least. But she loved me anyways. She would let me play with her old Barbie's. She would let me come over to her house when I begged my mom to let me go with my brother whenever he went over to play with our cousin. Even though there were only boys to play with. And she would make them play with me. Although most of the time I prefered to just stay wherever she was. And she never seemed to mind tripping over me every time she turned around. She would let me admire and touch all of her wonderful Christmas decorations that seemed so magical to me. She would let me sit at the kitchen table and just listen to the grown ups talk for hours when the others would shoo me out of the room because lets face it, I was annoying. And every once in awhile she would glance at me across the room and catch me watching her laughing and she would give me a quick wink. And my heart would quietly explode with love for this woman that I would never know how to express. I didn't get the fairy tale life with all of the perfect family members or home. But I did get the cool aunt from all of my storybooks. The one that the heroine of the story always worshipped and wanted to be just like! 

And then I grew up. I left to find myself. We stayed in touch but I retreated from literally all of my family for awhile. Although no matter how long I could go without contacting her or how many times,  the moment I called I was welcomed in like I had never left. Things changed for all of us. Many times. In ways that we never would have guessed. But that's life I guess. It has a funny way of taking everything you know and shaking it all up and throwing you back out to see what side you land on. Always when you're least expecting it, it seems.

I've never been great at saying the things I needed to say. The things I want to say. And that's why I write. To express the things I can not say.  So this is me saying thank you for being you. For being a bright spot in a child's otherwise dark world. For caring too much. And I am proud to get to say that even a small part of myself, takes after you. And yesterday,  when I laughed and yelled "Love ya" this is what I meant. Which honestly, basically comes down to, is exactly what I said. I love you Aunt Sheila.