When I was four years old, one of the most important figures in my life left because they couldn’t “handle” my illness. Out the door, across the garden — gone without ever saying goodbye. One sneeze that broke the camel’s back.
I didn’t hear from them for years: as far as I could tell, they’d set themself up under a bush and shut themself off from the rest of the world.
Their absence taught me strength.
When they weren’t there for my kindergarten graduation, I told myself I’d always be present for the important people in my life. That’s why when my mother got sick my senior year of college, I dropped everything to help care for her. And when five years later, my father was facing legal troubles for improper sanitation at his meat processing and packing facility, I left over $6M in VC funding on the table to put my law degree to use and defend him from invasive government agencies.
I learned independence. I learned strength in the face of adversity. I learned leadership, mentorship, and how to make a plan that could withstand the unexpected.
I did find out, eventually, what had happened. They had come to rest beneath a bush.
What I didn’t expect was to learn that they, too, grew from the experience.
A humble meatball, turned to mush, bore fruit as early as next summer. Meatballs, tomato sauce, and spaghetti — all from one source.
I can’t say that I’ve forgiven them for the experience. But conflict — losing what you love — can drive you toward strength. In a way, maybe them leaving was the most important thing to happen in either of our lives.
titsay
prguitarman
jacobvanloon
gummygunk
blakekathryn
tangentwithtanner
