Farewell

So I am off to South Africa for three weeks! Make sure you follow my twitter and Instagram for lots of pictures and updates!

Twitter: thefw0rds
Insta: cinnam0nica

Wishing everyone a healthy and happy month!

Monica

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my Father’s eyes

When I was 11 years old my dad decided it was time that he take me out on my first run.  I remember begging my dad to stop as I would pant and cry and he would run circles around me.  He would yell, “Don’t stop! Just finish it!”  He would sometimes grab my hand and pull me, just so I could make it back to my driveway. 

 

Don’t stop, just finish it.

 

My parents got married young. A young, beautiful, and healthy couple. They would go out dancing with their friends as they would drink Miller Lite. They went on ski trips and even after I was born I was thrown into Ski School as my parents would do the black diamond trails.  After my moms diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis I often wonder what went through my fathers mind.

Did he think of his life differently? Would everything change? 

20 years later my mom isn’t dancing anymore but taking videos of my father on the dance floor as she laughs and supports his crazy dance moves.  Does my dad wish he could dance with his wife? 

20 years later my mom isn’t skiing anymore.  Does my dad wish he could still reach for her hand on the ski lift? 

My dad is quiet about his emotions.  He never once left her side.  Yet, no one knows what goes through his mind.  I recently asked my mother what Dad thought about her MS, she looked perplexed, “I have no idea.” 

After I was diagnosed my dad texted me from work and said, “You’ll be fine! Just keep doing what you’re doing.” But does he worry? Does he ever think that he might have to reach for my hand and help me get to the finish line? His own daughter. I hear his voice echo in my head in every tough situation, “Don’t stop. Just finish it.” 

My Father’s eyes. I just wish I could see through his eyes just once to see how he copes with his wife having Multiple Sclerosis, and now his daughter.  My Father’s eyes.  I might not know exactly what goes through his mind, but what I do know is that if my mother and I can’t quite make it to the finish line, he will be there holding our hands and will take us. 

 

Til Next Time

Monica