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Friday, July 26, 2013

Opa (Guest post By Michelle White)

Today's post is by a teacher, mother, writer, runner, dreamer and a beautiful friend. Michelle has inspired and instilled in my children a love of learning. I am forever grateful for making their first experience in school such a wonderful one. Michelle writes about her greatest inspiration...her dad.

Michelle's Children's book



It’s just about that time; the time to remember the week from which I traveled to hell and crawled back.  He’s been gone 3 years now, but boy does it feel like a lifetime.  He’s missed so much: birthdays, holidays, graduations, races, baseball and soccer games…he’s missing my life.  My dad was my hero, my biggest cheerleader, my mentor in life and I miss him every day.
I didn't realize my dad was my hero until I became an adult and understood what it meant to get through life.  He had such drive and determination as he worked tirelessly to keep our family fed, clothed and cared for.  He was a working man, a laborer; working odd jobs all his life.  I didn't have much of a relationship with him as a small child- or simply don’t remember spending “fun” time with him.  As much as he was a working man, we became a working family (I grew up healthy alongside of my 2 brothers, 1 sister, and of course my mom and dad on a 20 acre apple orchard).  My early relationship with my dad consisted of “good morning” and “good night”.
My relationship changed with my dad when I started running for the cross country team in 7th grade.  He took an immediate liking to the sport he called the mind game (“It’s you vs. yourself, the mind vs. the body.  Which is gonna be stronger today Michelle?”).  He never missed a race.  On the days that I ran great-setting records and winning titles- he would quietly clap on the sidelines.  On the days in which I struggled to just finish he was the biggest voice on the path; motivating me, pushing me to believe!  He became my biggest cheerleader.

Our relationship changed once again after I had my boys-Joey and Tyler.  He poured his heart and soul into the time he spent with them.  I sometimes would think he was trying to make up for the lost time with his own children during those early years.  My boys adored him.  He was their Opa. I smile as I remember  him telling the boys the same stories over and over again.   I am now forever grateful for those precious memories the boys have of him. 


 "Someday"
So if I have all these amazing memories of this great man, why do I choose to remember the last week of his life the most at this time of the year? Why do we ever think of those last moments with anyone we love after we have lost them? A grandma’s last kiss? A mother’s last hug?  An ex-boyfriends last phone call?  A father’s last breath?  I don’t know the answer to this.  But I do know that in my father’s death, that last week of his life, he was able to remind me:
-to be a devoted mother, spending as much time with my boys as they will let me
-to love a mom I am still blessed to have
-to adore a husband who teaches me to lean
-to be a sister and hold hands with my siblings
-to make memories and laugh with family and friends
-to be a runner that doesn't quit
-to carry on my dad’s spirit and to love and live life


Someday maybe I will be strong enough to not hole myself up on that inevitable anniversary and cry my eyes our endlessly.  Someday maybe I won’t remember how much it hurts.  Someday, someday , someday…

Please email Michelle for more information or to get a copy of her book "Someday" michellekkuty@hotmail.com

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