After my Dad died life was (so they tell me) really hard. I mean I was really young and as far as I knew, that was just life. Mom went to work all the time. We often had either a baby sitter or Sabrina sitting in with us. But growing up in the big house in Girard I became BEST friends with my sister Sarah.
After Sabrina graduated and moved off to school, it was just Sarah and I. You can only imagine what kind of things the two of us got into. I remember one spring day we got bored with watching TV, so we decided to goof off. I sat in a laundry basket and pushed myself off the couch pretending it was a roller coaster or some barrell I was going off a water fall in. We laughed A LOT. And then my sister got the brilliant idea (and for some reason I used to always think my sister's ideas were genious) for me to ride it down the long staircase. So, saftey first, we took every pillow and every blanket we could find in the house and placed them at the bottom of the stairs. I even wore my bicycle helmet, just in case. And I was the smallest, so I hopped in that blue laundry basket with a smile on my face and let my sister push me down the steps. I think we did this for the rest of the day, until my mother got returned from being at work all day. I was sooo excited to show my mom the new form of fun we discovered. I took her by the hand and led her to the stairs, ran to the top and climbed in the basket. My mother looks at me nervously but for the life of me I couldn't figure out why. After all... we were being safe about this. So I look at my mom and say, "it's okay mom. I have a helmet" and let my sister push me again. ..That had to become something we didn't tell my mom when we did it.
I didn't have any big brothers till I was 9. And with Sabrina at school, I only had one person to look after me when I got into trouble. Sarah and I are less that 2 years apart. So she and I almost always were in the same school. When boys bullied me, Sarah was my big brother. I slept in her room a lot when I had nightmares. I trusted her with all my secrets. I can remember her chasing Matt Harrison on the playground for being horrible to me the day before. And I bet he won't ever forget the look on her face when she did lol. But even though my best friend lived down the hall from me and we ate dinner together every night, we still had our fights. She broke my toys and I annoyed her. I was the baby, mommy's little girl and I got my way a lot. To be honest, we still have our fights, only now they are worse. But no matter what, we always forgave each other. It's like impossible to fight with her forever.
I'm 20 years old now. And so far I've had a crazy life. And as I sit at the top of the stairs of life in my laundry basket, getting ready to let go and have a big adventure... I just want to remind my mom... don't worry. I 've got my helmet. And while the ride might be bumpy, and there might a little bit of risk on the way down... I plan on having as much fun as I can. Yet being smart about it lol
Monday, March 7, 2011
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Welcome to the Dollhouse...RIP Dad...
For as long as I can remember, I was either told to or just wrote on my own when I was going through something. I can't tell you how many angry words I wrote down on paper. Speaking never seemed to help. And sometimes these words scribbled down in countless notebooks were the only friends I really had. I've gone through a lot in my life. People talk and in some way you may have heard about me, who I am or what I've gone through. But maybe it's time I tell you what happened. Maybe it's time I told you why or how I ended up who I am. My name is Savannah. I will be 21 years old six short months. This blog, it's about struggle, pain...and a lot of it. Don't get me wrong though, theres a lot of good there too. Here goes nothing.
The first horrible thing in my life was when my father died. I was 5, and he was in his early 30s. Looking at how young he was now floors me. My sister and her husband are in their early 30s. Some of my friends are close to 30. But at age 5... that seems pretty old. I remember going to Cleveland to go to many of my dad's doctor visits. A lot of my memories under the age of 5 involved his illness in some way or another. Infact, I'm not sure I can remember much of my dad when he had two legs.
I remember staying what seemed like forever at my aunt's trailer. In reality, it was maybe a week or two. I missed my dad horribly, and couldn't figure out why we werent allowed to hug him when we said goodbye. But my daddy was very, very sick. The day we got the call my aunt was very sweet to us. It was just about a horrible storm that scared the life out of me went through (a tornado touched down just across the street from us, to this day I'm afraid of thunderstorms). We were finally getting to go home. My aunt stopped and got us candy for breakfast. And when we got home, there were a lot of cars in the driveway and people in my house. I ran in the house and asked my mom where my dad was, but mom said he had gone to home to be with God in heaven. My older sister Sarah seemed to know what this meant a lot more than I did. I was still pretty confused. I remember seeing her holding my mom for dear life and crying in the landing of the stairs in our old house. I just sat on the couch and watched tv. I cant remember crying. Mom said he went to sleep and that was it. I know that's not how it went, but I'd like to keep this peaceful thought.
The next few days people were in and out of our house. And a lot of people were crying. Us kids - my sister, the kids from the church, my cousins and I- we played on the concrete floor in the basement of the funeral home. And I lost my toothbrush somewhere. My mom told me I could hold Dad's hand if I wanted. The day of the funeral, my sister and I went to stay with my uncle dan. That was the day he gave Mom the "brat breaker" (which was a paddle he made her). And then that was it. I never saw my daddy's face again, unless in a picture. I missed him, but I was too young to really understand what happened. I can't imagine how my oldest sister felt or how she handled it. Thinkin back, she was stronger than I ever could have been when she took care of us while Dad was in the hospital.
People tell me my father was a great man. And in all my memories, he was. Every little kid thinks their dad is superman. Mine will always be my super man. He was selfless, and strong. My dad was everything I want to be when I grow up. And my mom, who not only stood by my dad strong through it all, will always have super human strength in my eyes. Because she not only watched her best friend die, she pulled through for my sisters and I, and did the best that she could.
Even though I was just a little girl, I still see everything so clearly. And now I can understand it, the memories make me cry. Now that I understand, I have to be strong too.
The first horrible thing in my life was when my father died. I was 5, and he was in his early 30s. Looking at how young he was now floors me. My sister and her husband are in their early 30s. Some of my friends are close to 30. But at age 5... that seems pretty old. I remember going to Cleveland to go to many of my dad's doctor visits. A lot of my memories under the age of 5 involved his illness in some way or another. Infact, I'm not sure I can remember much of my dad when he had two legs.
I remember staying what seemed like forever at my aunt's trailer. In reality, it was maybe a week or two. I missed my dad horribly, and couldn't figure out why we werent allowed to hug him when we said goodbye. But my daddy was very, very sick. The day we got the call my aunt was very sweet to us. It was just about a horrible storm that scared the life out of me went through (a tornado touched down just across the street from us, to this day I'm afraid of thunderstorms). We were finally getting to go home. My aunt stopped and got us candy for breakfast. And when we got home, there were a lot of cars in the driveway and people in my house. I ran in the house and asked my mom where my dad was, but mom said he had gone to home to be with God in heaven. My older sister Sarah seemed to know what this meant a lot more than I did. I was still pretty confused. I remember seeing her holding my mom for dear life and crying in the landing of the stairs in our old house. I just sat on the couch and watched tv. I cant remember crying. Mom said he went to sleep and that was it. I know that's not how it went, but I'd like to keep this peaceful thought.
The next few days people were in and out of our house. And a lot of people were crying. Us kids - my sister, the kids from the church, my cousins and I- we played on the concrete floor in the basement of the funeral home. And I lost my toothbrush somewhere. My mom told me I could hold Dad's hand if I wanted. The day of the funeral, my sister and I went to stay with my uncle dan. That was the day he gave Mom the "brat breaker" (which was a paddle he made her). And then that was it. I never saw my daddy's face again, unless in a picture. I missed him, but I was too young to really understand what happened. I can't imagine how my oldest sister felt or how she handled it. Thinkin back, she was stronger than I ever could have been when she took care of us while Dad was in the hospital.
People tell me my father was a great man. And in all my memories, he was. Every little kid thinks their dad is superman. Mine will always be my super man. He was selfless, and strong. My dad was everything I want to be when I grow up. And my mom, who not only stood by my dad strong through it all, will always have super human strength in my eyes. Because she not only watched her best friend die, she pulled through for my sisters and I, and did the best that she could.
Even though I was just a little girl, I still see everything so clearly. And now I can understand it, the memories make me cry. Now that I understand, I have to be strong too.
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