My only intention this afternoon was to create this blog, which would complete my English 1113 homework assignment. I was probably going to include a brief excerpt on how I'm looking forward to this class, then definitely end with a shallow attempt at flattery, stating how awesome the instructor for the class seems to be. My hope would have been that he read it, overlooked any grammatical errors, and awarded a high grade for, if nothing else, effort. What's that they say about "first impressions"?
However, as I logged into the site for, what I believed, the first time and created this account, I realized that I had been here before several years ago. As my page opened up, a blog, written by my father documenting the last three weeks of my mother's life, sat there waiting. It has been a number of years since she lost her battle to breast cancer, and time, as it tends to do, has dulled the ache and void of her lost smile and contagious laugh. Dulled, but not erased. As I read those initial, hope-filled words, typed by my dad, resign themselves to the realization of the inevitable, tears, once again, began to fall. We had so much hope in the beginning; after all, she had beaten cancer once before! It returned, however, with a vengeance; placing each one of our family members on a wild emotional roller coaster of encouraging days and positive results followed quickly by downturns and setbacks. As I read the entries my dad wrote and looked through the lens of the last several years, I saw a man who tried to be a rock for the family, but was truly lost the day she passed. His written words could not begin to comprehend or convey the depth that would be felt by that loss. She was such a beautiful person that brought joy to so many others, and, despite the sad nature of the content, I am thankful to be reminded of her.
However, as I logged into the site for, what I believed, the first time and created this account, I realized that I had been here before several years ago. As my page opened up, a blog, written by my father documenting the last three weeks of my mother's life, sat there waiting. It has been a number of years since she lost her battle to breast cancer, and time, as it tends to do, has dulled the ache and void of her lost smile and contagious laugh. Dulled, but not erased. As I read those initial, hope-filled words, typed by my dad, resign themselves to the realization of the inevitable, tears, once again, began to fall. We had so much hope in the beginning; after all, she had beaten cancer once before! It returned, however, with a vengeance; placing each one of our family members on a wild emotional roller coaster of encouraging days and positive results followed quickly by downturns and setbacks. As I read the entries my dad wrote and looked through the lens of the last several years, I saw a man who tried to be a rock for the family, but was truly lost the day she passed. His written words could not begin to comprehend or convey the depth that would be felt by that loss. She was such a beautiful person that brought joy to so many others, and, despite the sad nature of the content, I am thankful to be reminded of her.
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