Saturday, February 12, 2011

Who am I?

Genetics. DNA. All of these things that make us who we are. We are half our mother and half our father. But it's more than our hair color and how tall we get. It's who we are. Our genetics, the parts that are half our mom and half our dad, they also decide if we are good with tools like our father, or enjoy cooking like our mom. If you have siblings, then some parts of them are more like your parents then you are. That's genetics. It's why children who grow up without a parent feel a need to know that lost parent. We need to know what characteristic of us is like our missing parent.

I always hated myself for not knowing my dad, and not being like my mother. I just wanted to be like her so she would love me more, and so that I can understand her. But no matter how hard I tried, I never could be like her.

Eventually I not only became myself, but I learned to love who I am. Even when I feel lost, and alone and I don't know where to turn... I still see my good qualities. It's so hard not to wonder where I get them from.

Genetics. Half my mother and half my father. And they are each half of their mothers and half of their fathers. Which means my grandfather's and grandmother's qualities are in me. Fortifying me.
And then I know where I'm from.


I'm my Grandmother's daughter. I have her strong hands. I have her ability to love anyone. I have her heart, the one that makes her fight like crazy for any friend or family member. The one that gives her the strength to tell you the truth, whether you want to hear it or not, and then hug you because she loves you that much. I have my Grandmother's ability to love and forgive over and over. I have her sharp hazel eyes and her memory. Her love of music. Her desire to know God. Her desire to be loved. I have her strong attachment to our family, and our family story. I have her inner strength, the strength that helps her carry on day after day, whether she is sad or hurting. I have her ability to laugh and cry easily. All of these qualities that I love and admire so much about my grandmother, she gave to me.

I didn't get to know my grandmother till I was a teenager, and then I was only able to be close for a few years. But now, as an adult, I can see what she gave to me. She made me who I am.
And I am so proud to be her grand daughter. The same way that she is proud of me.



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