Over the past few months it seems like death and sickness has been all around me. Sometimes I get caught up in living I forget that one day it can come to an end without any warning. I admit I have a fear of death which is why I try to cram so much in every minute of my life. I am not the type of person to sit and cry when I lose someone close to me, it has become a part of life that I have to accept. When my dad died I was 18 years old 1 week away from my 19th birthday and mother to an almost 2 month old son who my father had yet to see because he was in the hospital fighting the last stages of AIDS. I am not sure why I am choosing this moment to share this but I am going to flow with it. My dad had his issues, he was an only child and his mom was far from a nice person which didn't help the situation. She was very resentful when my dad hooked up with my mom. To her he was leaving her for someone else.. In essence CRAZY! My mom and dad got together and my mom got pregnant with me. My dad was thrilled but my mother never wanted kids so she was less than thrilled. It wasn't until later on that I found out my mother wanted to have an abortion and made it as far as the doctor but her sister told my grandmother and my grandmother got there and prevented it. I always think about if that hadn't happened I wouldn't be here. To this day I wish I knew the date that took place because to me that's my official birthday. I used to always wonder why I could never figure out my purpose, and it dawned on me its hard to know your purpose when you weren't supposed to be here in the first place. I look at things differently now. I know I am here and what I am supposed to do and that my life does have value and meaning. Growing up my family life was anything but normal. My dad ended up going into jail and becoming addicted to drugs which eventually led to him beating my mother. So not only was I not wanted, but I was a reminder of abuse,hurt and pain. So I endured alot growing up. Although I remember the pain he caused I also remember the good things he tried to do like painting, singing, playing guitar, writing music,letting me know he loved me no matter what. I can remember being like 11 years old and him saying I am going to see you graduate HS and be a big girl. Fast forward 7 years he did just that and died 7 months later of AIDS. When I had Jalan I remember still being in the hospital and calling the hospice and letting him know, but he was to weak to come to the phone so they just put it to his ear. I cried like a baby.. Who would walk me down the aisle? Who would be there to tell my children the stories about me as a little girl? All of these things and more still stay with me to this day. I wish my relationship with my mother was better I have been trying to figure out the way to best fix it, but there would be so much to get through and admit and deal with and frankly I am not sure either one of us is ready for that. I don't hate her but there is a part of me that wishes for the mom that loves her little girl, that goes shopping, and talks with about her boyfriends and life. I don't have that at all. I have never been on a vacation with just me and my mom, not even a dinner or coffee. Sometimes I feel like an orphan.. Sometimes I think I have so many friends and want to meet and treasure people so much because I always feel insecure about not being wanted. Funny how life works..I have a running joke that I tell myself every year without therapy is a good one. Im 32 and haven't been yet.. All I can do is live my life and be a good person and hope that's enough.