I've written this blog post probably 50 times this year. I always stop and delete it because it always comes out wrong. I know now that's because I wasn't ready to write it.
The title to this post is misleading, because it represents one side of a turmoil that is constantly in my head. How do I acknowledge what is without question, the hardest year of my entire life, without succumbing to the incorrect thought that this year is all about me?
I have for so long wanted to write a post telling 2016 to go fuck itself. To remind it, and myself, that I am stronger than whatever it chooses to throw in my path. That I will always overcome, I will always persevere, and I will never stop striving to achieve.
I hate that blog post. That blog post rings false. It is only giving my ego the room to react, without allowing the rest of me to feel. The reason I keep deleting this blog post, is that this year isn't about me at all.
This year didn't steal my father from me, it stole my father from himself. After 14 months, my father lost a battle to a combination of Leukemia and Pneumonia that he fought courageously and fully. He never once made it about him, he made sure that he gave as much to everyone else as he could in whatever time he had left. In doing so, he fulfilled himself.
This year didn't try to steal my mother from me, it tried to steal my mother from herself. After an undetermined amount of time, the asshole tumor in my mother's gut tried to stop her. Tried to slow her down, and make her quit. Instead she looked 2016 in the face and told it to go fuck itself. She is now well on her way to a full recovery, and continues to live her life fully and completely, dedicating herself to her own well-being, her children, her family, and her kids. I separate children and kids, because her children might be myself and my brother, but her kids are her students. In doing so, she fulfills herself.