Despite my parents being divorced for the majority of my life and me living with my mom, I still always had a great relationship with my dad. Despite the long distances between us physically, over the years, we have continued to grow closer and closer now that I have grown into adulthood.
He has always been the “fun” parent. Everyone usually grows up with one of their parents being the “fun” one and the other balancing them out by stepping in and getting down to business when necessary. It’s understandable that my dad acted as the fun parent. Growing up with divorced parents, I would basically spend all my vacations from school with him. So, of course he was the fun parent because every time I saw him, it was vacation. Also, the more serious complications with my CF didn’t surface until I was 18 years old, right when I was becoming more independent from both of my parents.
In any time of need, however, my dad will always be there for me, someone I will always talk to through my struggles and listen to his advice and words of wisdom–it’s a father/son thing.
I gazed back in time the other day to when my dad was living in the Pueblo/Colorado Springs area right around when I was about 10. It seemed as though every time me and my dad got on the subject of my CF he would always tell me it will always be a fight, but when it comes time for the judge’s decision, the judges’ scorecard will always side with me–and then we would actually start wrestling during which he would act as my CF and I would eventually pin him down. It didn’t matter how much bigger it was, how hard it fought, or what moves it used from its arsenal, I would always prevail. Whether it was a first-round knock-out or a win-by-decision after 12 rounds, I would always prevail.
Of course, I’m not sure any fight with CF will ever be a first-round knock-out. The fight will always be one that is won by decision.
But no matter how many times it seems you are winning, no matter how many times it seems it is winning, there is always the next round. It won’t stay down for the count, which means you can’t either. Always get up and put up your fists ready to block or land the next punch.
Never give up, and always get up to see the next round.
Keep Fighting, Keep Breathing, Say Tomorrow