To My Dad--Lexi

My dad is my rock. He is my family’s glue. Sometimes he knows more about me than I do myself. And to imagine a life without him is the hardest thing I could ever do.

My dad has diabetes and I know to some that may not sound so bad as compared to other medical conditions. But seeing the way that this has plagued his life, takes a heavy toll on me.

He’s already been hospitalized twice this year: the first, because he was too stubborn to take his medication and the second because not taking his medication and the cold weather made him easily susceptible to pneumonia compared to others. And every day after school I would go to his hospital room and sit on his bed and we would talk about our days. He was so weak and frail. It became a challenge for him to talk because he was coughing hoarsely every five minutes. After our talks, he’d dose in and out of sleep and sometimes I’d sit and admire him sleeping peacefully, free of pain, and I’d reminisce through all of the wonderful memories we've made over my 16 years, with tears constantly rolling down my face, continuously wiping them as fast as I could just in case he woke up. I didn't want to show him how weak his situation made me, and I knew the presence of my family and I is what kept him going. And I tried to imagine my life without him: similar to that of a blank canvas, empty and boring, with no color or vibrancy to it. I don't think I could ever grasp the fact of losing my dad. He is my world, my source of motivation, my number one supporter. He’s always at every practice, at every game, enduring the long car rides with me, rain or shine. And I told myself that enduring this treacherous journey with him was the least that I could do.

A week passed and it was still the same routine. I didn't see him coming home anytime soon because he just wasn't getting any better. And I started slipping, both mentally and physically, because I just couldn't understand why my dad had to go through this. I couldn't focus in school; I didn't get any homework done. I couldn't go to practice, knowing that he was still suffering in that hospital bed. My mind was plagued by sadness and heartache, and it was eating me alive.

Eventually, the medications starting kicking in and my dad was finally released from the hospital. It was so great to have him home, his presence making me feel safe and comfortable again.

Fast forward to about two weeks ago: my dad was taking me to one of my many doctors appointments. And he turned to me and said, “Lex, I hate to say it but I don’t see that motivation in you anymore. I don't see that spark of light you once had when you talked about your dream schools and aspirations in life. I don't see your excitement for soccer anymore. And I want to be there for you, but you don't talk to me anymore and I don't know what I did to make you shut me out, but I’m so sorry for whatever it was.” And he stopped after that with tears falling from his eyes, unable to speak. And I was incapable of saying anything because there was a bitter truth to what he said. I knew I lost that vibrant light I once had in me; it was as clear as day. But I didn't think he'd notice. The silence continued, and he eventually was able to speak again and said, “You know, this morning I got a little upset with your mom because she told me you were upset with me while I was in the hospital.” My heart dropped. I knew what he was going to say next, and let him say it anyways. “You thought I gave up. You thought I didn't want to fight anymore. You thought I was going to leave everything behind because you and I both thought I wasn't strong enough to handle it.” I looked at him, tears now rolling down my face; yet again, turning to look out the window in attempts to avoid eye contact with him, trying to wipe them so he wouldn't see any weakness. He continued with, “You weren't entirely wrong. I couldn't handle all of the pain I went through. At moments, I did think of throwing in the towel and just giving up. And then I thought about your mom, and all of the things we've overcome together. And then I thought about you and your sister and the bright futures ahead of you two, that I wouldn't dare miss. Just because I wasn't taking care of myself, doesn't mean you get to take the easy way out and use me as an excuse to just give up. Lex, you've worked so hard these past few years to get where you are now and you're not going to throw it away because of me. There's no way I’m letting you do that to yourself. I’m sorry that I wanted to give up and I’m sorry that I let you down. You were my motivation to keep me going while I was sick; now let me be your motivation.”

What an emotional car ride, right? I remember it so vividly because my dad and I have never had a talk that powerful before. He really is my motivation and that spark of light within me. I want to make him proud with everything I do because he’s done so much for me.

Through these two instances, I’ve learned to appreciate my relationship with my dad so much more than I recently had. I’ve also realized that I can overcome nearly any obstacle with my dad motivating me along the way and that a life without him would be unbearable.