A Not So Happy Birthday

Today marks the anniversary of my birth. I’ve graced this earth with my presence for 21 25 32 years. My Facebook page is plastered with well wishes and happy birthdays and I am thankful for all the friends and family behind these beautiful sentiments.

However, I’m shocked out of my reverie by an invitation in my email in-box to join the ALS walk this summer and suddenly I go from a 32 y/o content, single mother to a devastated and frightened 5 y/o who wants desperately for her Dad to get better. Suddenly, any contentment or happiness at surviving another year, disappears.  It is replaced with sadness and everything else that goes along with situations like this …

I cannot effectively convey with words how it is or what it means to be a daughter to someone who struggles daily with such an awful, debilitating illness. So terrible, in fact, I found myself praying for a diagnosis of cancer — because at least with that there was a possibility of being cured. Like every other disease, it’s not limited to the individual affected.  It has taken my entire family hostage …

I don’t want to be reminded of it.

It depresses me to no end.

It brings about a bottomless well of pain, uncertainty, sadness … It makes me become the opposite of what I actually am.

Bravery is mostly measured by physical acts such as a firefighter entering a building emblazoned with flames on a sheer possibility that there my be a life inside needing help; a soldier goes and fights in a war with only the thought that it would keep his countrymen safe and free … Then there is the other type of bravery – the kind one must dust off and rely on when something like this grabs hold of your family. It’s this bravery that the world speaks less of… Bravery like this is something I believe people are born with. I lack this specific type… I lack them both, but the former is more about choice. I can choose not to join the military, but I cannot choose not to have a sick father.

Weddings by far have been the hardest. Which is ironic, since I’m as cynical as it comes when it comes to marriage. But, whenever I see a father and daughter dance, I break down knowing that with each passing day this simple tradition becomes a little less of a possibility for me and my sisters.

I beg the Universe, God, scientists – every night to bring about a cure … And every night I lose more faith …

I have been virtually paralyzed … Not able to enjoy many of life’s little joys.  There is a void so deep within me, no amount of Banana Cream Pie can fill it (trust me! I try every week at least 5 times …) Anything good that’s happened to me – any victories – within this time frame haven’t been received with happiness. None of it has tasted as sweet as it should. It has all been tainted.  And it will continue to be. Because as my father experiences it, so do I. Therefore …

I cannot walk …
I cannot breathe …
I just cannot …

---

For more information about the ALS walk click here. To learn more about ALS, click here… Please leave a comment with your contact info if you’d like to donate to my father’s walk team, we’ll be registering it w/in a few days … Thank you!