My sister and I often hear how much we look alike. While I
suppose she can’t deny being my sister – we are very much different people. She
colors within the lines, I don’t even think I stay on the paper most days. She
makes lists and plans and goals. I accomplish things by realizing the deadline
is in 10 minutes and hauling total ass through it. My sister needs validation.
She needs to know that people around her recognize all the good things she
does. I, on the other hand, wake up every morning and say “you’re welcome,
world…” I admit that it sounds cocky and arrogant. But it also forces me to do
something every single day that makes the world thank me the next day. It
reminds me that I have purpose. That I have a reason that I am here and that I
shouldn’t waste a second of it. As you can see, we are very very different
individuals.
We were, however, both taught to excel and to do our best.
Dad used to say anything worth doing was worth doing well. He said it by using
the words “Don’t half-ass anything” …but still, the sentiment is the same. My
parents gave us all the tools – the best education, the best environment, all
the support in the world. And they said – “Go, do it your way,” basically.
They let me figure out my path in the world and in my academic
studies. It wasn’t easy. (For more about how sad they are they gave me my own
thought process, read here.) But they let us both free to do what we wanted.
For any more evidence that we are different, you only have
to look at our college life. It took me 7.5 years to get my undergraduate
completed. My sister, on the other hand, graduated with two majors, honors with
both programs, in 3.5 years. We both graduated with great GPAs, we both went
into fields that we love and feel passionate about. We just, without a doubt to
anyone, went about it in different ways.
When Dad was first diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer, I
was still working towards my degree and my sister was still in middle school. I
immediately felt guilty. When someone is diagnosed with a stage IV lung cancer –
they don’t usually live long. I was going to be the person who didn’t graduate
from college in time for my Dad to see one of his kids walk across the stage. I
wasn’t married, I had no children. All the things that you think a father looks
forward to seeing their daughter do? I had done none of them.
Luckily, for me (and I think all of us), Dad lived for 8
more years. He got to see me walk across the stage. Even if there was a last
minute “you may not graduate” snafu and my name wasn’t on the list of
graduates. Sorry, Dad. But – hey – you taught me to do things my way. And boy
did I. And I did graduate. Promise.
My sister graduated at the top of her class. She even got to
give the student response at graduation. Dad was sick and unable to be at the ceremony.
But Charla, one of his home health nurses – and someone we considered a friend
to all of us, went to the hospital and sat with him while Emily graduated and
gave the address. They lived streamed the graduation. He got to witness Emily’s
speech. He got to see her walk across the stage (twice!) and be honored. Charla
said as she finished her speech Dad whispered “Good girl.” And you know what?
She is.
I was thinking about how lucky I am to have had that moment
with my parents. To know that they were both proud of me, that they both
recognized and appreciated my accomplishments. And this morning, as I was
driving all alone I thought to myself that life isn’t fair. (Also it isn't fair all I have is this blurry picture of Dad and I on graduation day. But being that my haircut is terrible, maybe I should be thankful.) It isn’t fair, little sister, that you didn’t get to stand next to Dad and take a picture when you graduated. It isn’t fair to our mother – to try to fill the void that’s left in our lives. It isn’t fair to our community and to everyone who loved and cherished my father to not have him here. It isn’t fair to anyone or in any way.
But, I hope that you know, that your father was and will
continue to be proud of you. Trust me, he was proud of me and it took more than
seven years to graduate. And, as he always pointed out (to anyone who would
listen), it took that long and I’m not even a doctor. He used to tell people
that he was sure my major was beer and I may have picked up a minor in weed. He
was wrong, for the record, my minor was definitely in bar dancing. But, that’s
not the point. The point is, I always saw him speak of you with pride. I always
heard him tell his home health care workers that you were away at school
studying and that you were a good kid. You don’t know that because you weren’t
here. But that’s because you were busy doing another job – making your dad
proud.
As I thought about all of this, this morning, about how you
got cheated a bit – I felt an overwhelming sense of pride in you, little
sister. And, since we all know I am not very emotional, it had to be Dad. I’m
basically a robot, you know. Robots don’t feel. But your Dad certainly did. I
know that both of your parents are proud of you. Your father would have been
pleased as punch to brag that even though you graduated mid-term you still won
four awards at the Senior Banquet this last week. I do believe that was the most
I saw anyone win. 
We often look to our parents for a gauge on how good we're doing, on if we've made the right decisions, if we are embarking on the right path. I don't even know if we realize that we do it. But validation from your parents is the best feedback at times. I know you feel cheated and sad - that you can't have that from your Dad. I don't blame you. And, even if you don’t wake up and say “you’re welcome, world”
tomorrow, I hope you can take a moment and realize that your parents are both
proud of you. I suppose I am, a little. But I have to admit, I made it pretty
easy for you to look outstanding. The college graduation bar was set pretty
low. You just happened to fly past my record at lightning speed. And, as you
move on to the rest of your life, I hope you realize how proud your father
still is of you. I know it. I don’t even have to hear him. Or see him. And I
know it’s true.
Even if he was pretty proud of my beer major, I bet he has room
to be proud of you, too.
You’re welcome, world – because not only am I
amazing, but I also have a pretty great little sister. I’m still always
going to be his favorite, though. Sorry. You can’t win ‘em all. 