Eight Years and counting...

Today marks a eight years since I was shot. It feels like it didn't even happen to me -almost like it was a lifetime ago. Although I know it did because I have plenty of scars to remind me it did. You know what the only few things I remember about actually being in the hospital are? I remember when I woke up my mom was on the right side of my hospital bed and I started to cry because I couldn't speak. I had tubes coming out of my mouth and a hole in my neck. One of the things that stands by me is that my mom didn't cry( not even once) while I was in there. Maybe she did in private but  not in front of me- and if so I have no knowledge of it. Do you know I have only seen my mom cry about two or three times in my life? I made her cry once by being insensitive and once she cried because of a friend. I can't remember the other time but it wasn't when I got shot. I think if I would have seen her cry I would have understood that magnitude of what happened to me that night eight years ago. Since she is so strong I hope that rubbed off a little on me. I know I always say this but it's true, I'm glad it happened to me. If it would have happen to someone else maybe they would that let that define who they were. Maybe they would be bitter about it. Not me. Because of this I'm aware of how fragile our lives really are. One day you could be doing some mundane thing, something you've done a hundred times before and next could be riding in an ambulance. Crazy. You know I ask God right after it happened? I used to ask him why did it happened to me. He never answered me. But what I can say that if it didn't happen I don't I would be where I am today. Because of this my job found out that I was good at my job so when I came back I got a promotion soon after. What I ask God now is that everyday since I have been able to make him proud of the person I have become- even though I'm not perfect, that saving me that night was worth His work in me. That even though I might not know why He left me on this earth that He one day helps me find out what it is. But most of all  that I do what He left me here to do and all the while I'll be rejoicing in His name.

My first wedding dress...

All I have to say was that my mom has always been a different kind of mom. When I was about five years old we use to live with my moms friend in California. This was in 1985. Carmen (my moms freind) was married to Raul. Raul was a very friendly man who used to help a lot of people out. So naturally they had lots of acquaintances. So as a result because I lived in their house I was exposed to a lot of people. There was this young man around his early twenties named David (I think -I will have to verify that with my mom) who used to come to the house a lot to hang out with Raul. He had recently immigrated to the US, just like us. I had a crush on him. I know I was five! So I made the mistake of telling my mom and her friend I had a crush on him. So they told David and they played a joke on me. I think I might have told my mom something like when I grow up I'm gonna marry David or something along those lines. So she and her friend took me to a store and bought me this pleated white dress. They told me the next time David comes over your gonna get married. I was confused but what could I do I was five? So the day came when they told me David was going to come over. They were taking pictures of me in my white dress but I was not smiling. I was nervous and when he came over I ran from the front of the house to the back of the house crying saying I didn't want to marry him. I'm sure they were laughing their asses off making fun of me running around the house screaming! Now that I think of it this was kind of traumatizing and pretty embarrassing! But funny as well. You think that had something to do with why when I get in a relationship with some one I immediately think I made a mistake and want to break up with them? I start this second guessing myself and thinking too much about it? Umm...great another can of worms opened. Damn it!