To say I have a great family would be quite the cliche, but very true all the same. Not only was I blessed with an amazing family, but around the age of four that family grew even larger and greater. My parents separated around that time and remarried either shortly or a fair amount later. My father married a woman with four children; all older than my sister and I (I have one biological sister). My mother eventually remarried and I gained another sibling; this time another sister coincidentally named Megan (just like my biological sister.....craziness).
Much like Norman Bates, I do believe that a mother is a boy's best friend, but in a sincere way; not in a psychotic serial killer fashion. My mother has been my shoulder to lean on for as long as I can recall. She was there even a year ago when I almost lost the love of my life due to some crazy and unforeseen circumstances. She was there with wisdom, concern, and some of the best advice I had ever received from a woman who has given some great advice over the years. That girl and I worked things out and are engaged to be married.
She is also the strongest woman I have ever met. Well, the second strongest person, because I'm pretty sure she developed her thick skin from my grandmother. The toughest lady on the planet. During my junior year of high school, my stepfather passed away. This time was especially difficult for me, because my stepfather and I had just begun to develop a relationship. He had been in my life since around the first grade, but our relationship was a bit messy and angst-ridden at times. Most of this was due to typical resentments towards the new man in the house. As I got older, it was due to the issues that come hand in hand with raising a teenage son. Regardless, as I matured the relationship strengthened to the point where I can remember the two of us having nightly conversations about nothing at all. These are some of my fondest memories. So, it was with even more regret and emotional disruption that I dealt with his death my junior year. It has since affected me. Sometimes, for the worse, but mostly for the better.
My biological father is pretty much my doppelganger plus a few hundred pounds. I get most of my sense of humor from him. I also get my short fuse towards ridiculous problems, like trying to find my keys. He likes to leave voicemails, but takes ten years to get to the point. I enjoy it every time. He's funny without even trying to be and sometimes we let him in on this fact. The one who usually tells him is my stepmother and she has her own hilarious way of bringing things to light. My family likes to give him a hard time about how he whistles unintentionally when he says certain words. I always thought this was a riot until recently I discovered I've started to do it too.
I love my parents....all of 'em. They truly are a unique, strange, crazy, and above all else loving group. They have supported me in all that I've chosen to do and provide constant comfort given my current disappointments while searching for a place to begin my profession. I am forever grateful.
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