1,000 Paper Cranes.

Sadako Sasaki and her 1,000 paper cranes is my most vivid memory of school work from primary school. Sadako was diagnosed with Leukemia after atomic bomb was dropped on Japan during WWII. She is a real girl, and her story is real. It is believed that a person who creates 1,000 paper cranes would be cured by gods. I read this story in 4th grade, it was moving while I read it, but it was more moving after I had finished it.

It was a very cold January when I was in 4th grade. I remember having lots of snow, especially on this particular weekend I am going to recount for you.

It was a typical Sunday morning at my grandmother's house. My father was still living there trying to recoup financially from his divorce. We had just eaten breakfast which meant it was now time to watch Sunday morning cartoons! As to what me and Shawn were watching, I can't remember, that was information overload for my young memory that day. I was ten years old, and Shawn was only eight. We were so close in age that we were best friends, but we had our fair share of fights. There was one thing you would always see us doing together, and that would be watching our Sunday morning cartoons.

The phone rings and Dad answers. "You need us to come right now? ...... Uh ok..... Yeah we're on our way"
"Shawn, get ready, we have to go somewhere, Sam, you have to stay here."

He then went off to talk to my grandmother and the next thing I remember is him and Shawn leaving. I had no idea what was going on, where they were going, I just knew this wasn't good.

I sat there watching tv for a while and then I heard the phone ring again. My grandmother picked it up. I couldn't hear what was said I just seen her starting to cry. I asked her what happened, what was wrong, and she told me nothing. I went into the bathroom and started sobbing silently. I didn't want her to know that I knew something was terribly wrong. I was terrified of what was going on and I had no clue that my tears were justified.

My mother was coming to pick me up was what I was told later. This was terribly unusual. Normally my father would drop me and brother off at her house. I had no idea where they even were. When I got into the car, my mother told me that Shawn and Dad were at the hospital. She was going to take me to Applebee's so that we could talk about some stuff.

Before our waiter could even bring me my drink, my mother had told me Shawn was diagnosed with cancer. He had leukemia. The word "Leukemia" made me snap. All day I had been trying so hard to hold my fear in, but now it all came pouring out. I began to sob, and scream, I was so upset I couldn't breathe. Sadako died, so that means Shawn will. That was my first thought. My best friend was going to die and there was not a damn thing I could do to help him, or stop it. I wanted this to be a really bad dream. Shawn couldn't have cancer. I'm the older sibling, it has to be me. I need to be the one with cancer, I need to be the one dying.

Both of my parents told me Shawn wouldn't die, the doctors were going to help him. I was kind of relieved, but I remember sitting in my room for three nights in a row unable to sleep because I was crying. I eventually calmed down, and Shawn had a year and  half left of his life. Of which, is too much to jam into one blog, and too much on my emotions to sit and write all at once.

If you're ever wondering what a truly guilty feeling is like, imagine this. Imagine doing a bone marrow transplant to save your brother's life, or not playing some PS2 games with him because you didn't like the games, or even as simple as not saying I love you enough, and then he dies at 10 years old. I felt responsible for his death for years because my bone marrow didn't save him, I still feel guilty even though I had no control and I know it's really not my fault. I still feel guilty to this day for not playing nascar PS2 games with him. Do you have any regrets? Because I have a laundry list.

I did a lot with my brother, and I have a lot of pictures and memories, that I am truly thankful for. That little boy changed my life, he has made me who I am, and continues to shape me today with his memory. Give you siblings a hug, tell them you love them, even if it is a text. One day, you'll be happy you did.

I finished reading 1,000 Paper Cranes two weeks before my brother's diagnosis. Although it made for a traumatic experience, I knew what to expect. I knew how horrible cancer was, and I was able to live knowing there was limited time. As for myself, I am cancer free but have had a scare. My brother and I have nearly identical DNA so it is a fear I live with. All I know is that if I am ever diagnosed, I have lived my life in such a way that I can be at peace.

Misconceptions.

Today I just wanted to clear a few things up because for years I've heard I was intimidating, or scary, or seemed stuck up and unapproachable. All of which I thought were jokes until recently I've realized, people are serious.

I always knew that some girl lacrosse players in the area were afraid of me, which I completely understand why. I've taken stick checks to the face, shots to the crotch (yes it was bruised down to my knee), I've been trampled, thrown, you name it, and I would pick myself up and finish the game. The only time I took a seat was when i tore my meniscus & ACL. There were also the stories of me knocking a girl out while on JV, me checking some poor girl in the back of the net, knocking girls on their ass when they would try to cut towards the net, purposely putting myself in harms way to stop a shot, and just my fearlessness with my stick. I loved defense, so I get that.

What I've never understood were the people who would tell me they thought all of those things about me who never once even looked at me on the field. The people I sat next to in classes, or at lunch, or would even see me walking through the hall. I was a quiet girl, I mostly kept to myself because I was terrified of EVERYONE. Well frankly, I still am. I really didn't get a warm welcome to Wheatfield.

I met the lacrosse team before even transferring to NW so naturally they were my first, and really only friends until my senior year of high school. I'm afraid of any sort of rejection. Whether it be just trying to make a friend, or trying to get a date. I am so completely self conscious that is has hindered me more than you all know. It's kind of funny though because when I do get the courage to talk to someone, or to hang out with anyone I usually (more often than not) get turned down, ignored, ditched, or talked bad about behind my back.

I don't avoid speaking to people because I'm stuck up. I avoid it because I'm shy, have social anxiety, and I am completely awkward. I don't know how to say "hi" to someone first, nor can I even text someone first. I'm afraid to ask anyone to hang out, what would I even do hanging out with someone? It's not because I think I'm better than anyone, it's actually the opposite. Sometimes I feel every one's too good for me and why would someone like you want to be friends with me? That's what I don't understand.

I am also not sure why anyone would be intimidated by me or scared of me. Maybe it's because I know what I want and I go for it. Or maybe it's because of my maturity level due to me having to grow up and be an adult at 10-11 years old. I also think it might be because I don't take any one's bullshit (unless of course we are dating, apparently I will deal with infinite amounts of bullshit).

I just want everyone to know, you can approach me. Even if we aren't friends, have barely ever spoken, if you need something I WILL help you. I love hanging out with people and having a good time, I also love having a real conversation, not just some bullshit. I'm a real person. I'm not stuck up, I'm not a bitch, I don't play games, I don't lie, and I am here when you need something. So I apologize for what ever has made people afraid of me, or what I have done to create misconceptions about me, but I promise if you were to give a chance you would see that you were probably wrong.

354 and counting.

Event Number One:
It's Thanksgiving morning when all of a sudden I hear a loud crash in my bed room. As I open my eyes I notice the door to my room is half off the hinges and there stands my mother.

"Get your fucking ass out of bed !"

Here is goes again.......

She decided to break down my unlocked door in order to wake me up and yell at me for going out with my friends the night before. Despite her saying it was fine at the time.

"You fucking lied to me on what you were doing and who you were with! What the fuck is wrong with you, you know you weren't supposed to be out at a club!"

Here it goes. Being yelled at on Thanksgiving morning before I even know what's going on. My mother had told me it was fine to meet some of my friends out  that night. She knew where I was going and who I would be seeing, also that I wouldn't get home until 3:00am, yet here she is yelling at my for doing what she said was fine at the time.


Event Number Two:
It's the day after Christmas and as I'm sleeping my mother opens my bedroom door, with out breaking it this time, and wakes me up.

"I'm going for a drive. If I don't come back don't worry about me. I'm probably just wrapped around a telephone poll some where."

I don't even respond. This shit has become beyond ridiculous. I just get out of bed, wait till she's gone and I get dressed and drive to my father's house. As I'm on my way my phone begins to ring.

"Where the fuck did you go?"...."Why the hell are you going to your fathers house?"...."Oh to complain about me I bet!"...."Who knows if I'll be here when you get home."

Typical.

I get to my father's house and I tell him all about it. He suggested I pack my stuff and just move into his house. The thoughts tempting, but I couldn't stand to break my mother's heart like that even though it's complete hell living in her house. I'm the only child left, I can't just leave.
My father made me feel better so I returned home. I didn't expect to walk into what I did.

I open up the door and she begins yelling at me for this and that and everything else. Complaining because I talked to my dad and yelling at me because I left with out her permission. All of a sudden she lifts our glass top coffee table, and slams it onto the ground. Glass shattered every where. A this point I walk to my bedroom door way, trying to avoid the destruction. She grabs the seven foot lamp and swings it across the room, That shatters as well. She grabs a picture off the wall, and threw it at the opposing wall. At this point there is glass every where. I text my grandmother to tell her she needs to come over, something was wrong with my mom. Then the phone rings.

"You called your fucking grandmother! Thanks Samantha, that's all I fucking need right now! I'm LEAVING!"

My mother then stormed off again. My grandmother came over to help me clean up all of the glass and restore the house as much as we could. My mother came home in the process and yelled at both of us for cleaning. At this point my grandmother suggested I spend the rest of the day and night at my fathers house, so I packed an over night bag and left.


Event Number Three:
I've got the house to myself for the night. My mother is working an over night and my boyfriend had a 13 hour shift so I decide to spend my night alone watching tv, after all I have school in the morning. I read a silly comment left on a facebook post so my sarcastic self replies back with "Lay off the drugs, those white things you've been popping definitely aren't tictacs !!!"
My phone rings and its not even three minutes later.

"You're an internet bully! Delete that comment and apologize to that boy! So much is wrong with you and I did not raise you that way!"

It's my mother, stalking my facebook while at work, what else is new. So I do my typical and ignore her rant and go to bed.
It's now 6am and my phone alarm goes off for school. I look and what a surprise, seven missed phone calls from my mother and three voice messages. She knows I was sleeping, I had school in the morning.

After my morning classes I go to work. As soon as I arrive three people tell me my father is looking for me, I thought it was about giving me a child support check. I enter the maintenance booth and I see the pissed off look on his face.
"OUTSIDE NOW."
Welp. That's not good.

"Your mother called me at 5am to bitch about you. She said I need to come over today after work to discuss what is to be done about you."
At this point I start crying. What did I even do??
"I read your comment to that kid Sam, and I laughed so hard. It was funny. I divorced your mother twelve years ago, she is not the boss of me. I will not go sit in HER kitchen and listen to HER bash you. You are to go home after work, pack your things and leave. You NEED to move in with me. You can't live with this any longer."

I had no choice to do what he said. As I'm driving home I'm building my confidence, I'm telling myself I can do this. It will be hard, but I can leave.

"Sit down at the table, Samantha. Your fathers coming over so we can have a discussion with you."...."What do you mean by 'no he's not?'"...."Well then you're out. I'm kicking you out. You can't live here ANYMORE!"

Looks like I didn't need to actually say anything. She is kicking me out. At this point she grabs two black garbage bags, storms to my room and stuffs my necessary stuff in them. Throws them outside, takes my car keys from me (although I purchased the car with my own money) and told me to get in her truck she was dropping me off at my father's house.
She pulled in his drive way, threw my garbage bags of items onto his lawn, and sped away.


This was two years ago. This Christmas Eve will mark one year since she has even spoken to me. No call or text on my birthday even. She has started rumors I'm a drug addict. I get drug tested for my job, and if I did drugs I wouldn't be graduating a year early with a bachelors. I hate drugs. I've seen what they do to people. She has also called me a whore for dating someone at the time, she said I should leave him and try dating a few guys; apparently this would make me no longer a whore. Makes sense.

This is what alcoholism does to people. It's not easy to watch, or easy to deal with.

Words Last Forever.

We have all heard the famous "don't say anything on the internet you would wish you hadn't of said. It's there forever you know." Well, the internet isn't the only thing that will let your words haunt you. Your conscience will.

I'm sure those of you reading this who have a sibling can recall a time where you've said "I wish you were never born!" Or you've at least thought it. We all have, and children definitely don't have much of a filter. 

This is one memory I struggle with.

I remember sitting in my brothers room with him one day, I was maybe seven at the time making him five. We were doing something, as to what I can't remember, and he aggravated me so I blurted out "I WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN!"

Well, this was short lived because he immediately started screaming and crying so I put my hand over his mouth (so my mother didn't hear) and I apologized and told him I didn't mean it. I told him I loved him and I loved having a little brother.

So what's the big deal?

My brother died five years later from acute lymphoblastic leukemia paired with the Philadelphia chromosome. It's been nine years since I've spent a Christmas with him, I haven't been able to buy him Christmas gifts, and I haven't been able to hear "I love you Sam."

When I go to visit my brother I have to go to the cemetery. When I think of my brother I see an image that hasn't changed at all in eight and a half years. I can barely remember what his voice sounded like, or what a hug from him felt like. 

What I do remember though are the blood chilling screams he had from pain. I remember him being too sick to move off of the couch. I remember his seizures the days prior to his passing. I remember being woken up to say my last goodbyes to Shawn. 

I do not remember his last breath. I do not remember holding him as he took his last breath.

I no longer have a brother. It's been just me since. Sometimes I dream he's alive and I'll wake up and cry for days not leaving my bed. It doesn't get easier, you just learn to hide it better.

My point is, no matter how stressed, angry, aggravated, or sad you are, just think "Will these words haunt me the rest of my life?" 

Every single day those words I said to my brother run through my head. I remember it like it just happened. I wish I never said those words. If there's one regret I have in life, it's that.

This holiday season, tell your siblings you love them. It could be the last Christmas you spend with them.