Reblog if you’re over 10 and you still have stuffed animals on your bed or in your room.
((I am far too lazy to count I just know there’s a crapola ton amount of them in there XD))
(Source: jwdubz)
mah nickname on an index card. Yes there’s a story behind it.
7th grade, february if memory serves right, i was pulled out of my basketball game. We were the Portsmouth Catholic Pirates—a name i would have made fun of before going to the school, for i thought catholics to all be holy and such. We were mid-battle against an enemy we almost had. Right when i felt my energy peak, my teammate, a shorter girl with a preppy attitude, hops onto the court calling my name. I’m out. Mad that i wasn’t able to play anymore, i jogged off. My coach joked with me that he wasn’t keeping me in the whole game this time and directed me to the assistant coach’s wife, my neighbor by three houses. Honestly, i didn’t particularly care for this family, as when i was younger i had though that their daughter had stolen my best friend, but i went with her. I had been summoned home on matters of the family.
Instantly, after hearing this, my heart lurched. My mind raced to every possible thing it could be, immediately going to the worst, “someone died”, and abandoning it. Next, i went to possibilities of someone just being sick. i disregarded that. now i thought i was in trouble. but i had done nothing wrong, so i couldn’t have been. last option. Dad.
In the past, My dad had had some issues with his health. When My family was leaving Rhode Island—we were a coastguard family, so lots of moving—and I was leaving the 2nd grade. All of our things were packed up in boxes and on a truck somewhere heading to our new home, with the exception of our precious belongings—for me my doll katie and for my brother, his blanket, “yayyee”—a few small toys to keep us little kids busy, and a ton of food. Since we did not rent the base housing anymore, we were staying the night in a hotel. Im just minding my own little 7 year old business when i hear my mom scream.
Up to this point, i had heard my mom scream only in anger, but never like this.
Next, i hear her praying and casting out demons. Im 7 and mom’s casting out demons in the super 8 bathroom. I freak out.
“mom?!? MOM?!? WHAT’S WRONG?!?!”
“Melissa! STAY IN THERE OR GO GET HELP! CALL 911!”
I look around. dad’s not in here. he’s in the bathroom. laying on the ground, unconscious and for all i know, dead. I pick up my mom’s cell phone and dial the three numbers no one ever wants to have to. after a 7 year old’s description of where this hotel was, i dropped the phone, without hanging up, and ran barefoot to the hotel lobby. there were probably 4 people in front of me, but i didn’t care. i barged to the front and got the lady’s attention
“dad’s not feeling well”
“what’s wrong with him?”
“i don’t know.”
i dashed back and everything from then to somehow ending up in my best friends’ house was a blur, i don’t remember any of it.
It turned out dad was okay, he’d just passed out. But what about the next time it happens? or the time after that? Now i was living in virginia, the house i do now, and dad passes out again within the first week we’ve moved in. I’m forced onto the neighbors whom i don’t know and to this day don’t acquaint with very much, and i’m scared. my aunt eventually comes to our house and lets me and my brother in to get our important things and just be home. Mom and dad come home later, safe and sound. just another episode of passing out.These episodes carried on for the next few years, getting better and better, until we had almost forgotten about them.
a few days, maybe weeks from where i started this story, my dad had another one of these episodes, over a good year or two since the last one, and he falls, cutting his head on a bench in the gym where he is playing basketball with his shipmates. he was finally the captain of a ship, just like he had always dreamed. he got stitches and one night, while i was at a school valentine’s dance (yes, at the catholic school) got to show my mom over Skype since she was here with us and he was in maine because we couldn’t afford to stay up there.
the sunday after that night was when i got pulled from my game. I got dropped off and everything seemed eerie. the way my neighbor treated me seemed strange, my house looked weird, there were cars i didn’t recognize In my driveway. I walk through the front door, my smelly gear bag over my shoulder. I look into the room next to the foyer. Mom’s sitting there crying, my aunt, uncle, grandma, my pastor from my church, and a few other people from the church are all sitting around the table with her, obvious that they had been crying too. I go upstairs and put my bag down, a bit confused by it all, and come back down to crash on the couch.
Mom comes in and calls my brother in too. she sits us down on the couch together and hands us each a tissue before crouching down in front of us, looking down s if searching for the words to say. she looks up at us, and i can tell she’s about to start crying again. she speaks.
“kids…. you know how… how when God and Jesus…. when they decide to call someone home? well….. They decided to call daddy home…. and now he’s with them….”
I sat there, shocked, stunned, I’m sure my jaw dropped. I didn’t know what to do. I was only 12. One thing i remembered saying over and over as my mom hugged me and my brother together, i didn’t cry right away, i just said this.
“we will get through this. we will. i don’t know how. but we’ll get through this. we can make it.”
That was almost 3 years ago now. Now i’m 15. This picture i drew when i was in 9th grade, last year. It says Moe because that was what my dad called me. everyone calls me that now and its one way i can remember my dad.
Dad, if you can see this, or you know what’s going on somehow, I love you, and sooner rather than later, I will be up there with you too. I can’t wait to see you, and despite the tears blinding me as i type this and my body shaking as i recall, Im staying strong, just like you would want me to be. Mat is doing good, still an annoying little brother. Mom misses you, a lot. but what would you expect. we’ve all been growing to know each other more, and to know God more. and we can’t wait to see you again.
With love,
Your only daughter,
Yours truly,
Cant wait to see you again,
Missing you,
Moe…
7th grade, february if memory serves right, i was pulled out of my basketball game. We were the Portsmouth Catholic Pirates—a name i would have made fun of before going to the school, for i thought catholics to all be holy and such. We were mid-battle against an enemy we almost had. Right when i felt my energy peak, my teammate, a shorter girl with a preppy attitude, hops onto the court calling my name. I’m out. Mad that i wasn’t able to play anymore, i jogged off. My coach joked with me that he wasn’t keeping me in the whole game this time and directed me to the assistant coach’s wife, my neighbor by three houses. Honestly, i didn’t particularly care for this family, as when i was younger i had though that their daughter had stolen my best friend, but i went with her. I had been summoned home on matters of the family.
Instantly, after hearing this, my heart lurched. My mind raced to every possible thing it could be, immediately going to the worst, “someone died”, and abandoning it. Next, i went to possibilities of someone just being sick. i disregarded that. now i thought i was in trouble. but i had done nothing wrong, so i couldn’t have been. last option. Dad.
In the past, My dad had had some issues with his health. When My family was leaving Rhode Island—we were a coastguard family, so lots of moving—and I was leaving the 2nd grade. All of our things were packed up in boxes and on a truck somewhere heading to our new home, with the exception of our precious belongings—for me my doll katie and for my brother, his blanket, “yayyee”—a few small toys to keep us little kids busy, and a ton of food. Since we did not rent the base housing anymore, we were staying the night in a hotel. Im just minding my own little 7 year old business when i hear my mom scream.
Up to this point, i had heard my mom scream only in anger, but never like this.
Next, i hear her praying and casting out demons. Im 7 and mom’s casting out demons in the super 8 bathroom. I freak out.
“mom?!? MOM?!? WHAT’S WRONG?!?!”
“Melissa! STAY IN THERE OR GO GET HELP! CALL 911!”
I look around. dad’s not in here. he’s in the bathroom. laying on the ground, unconscious and for all i know, dead. I pick up my mom’s cell phone and dial the three numbers no one ever wants to have to. after a 7 year old’s description of where this hotel was, i dropped the phone, without hanging up, and ran barefoot to the hotel lobby. there were probably 4 people in front of me, but i didn’t care. i barged to the front and got the lady’s attention
“dad’s not feeling well”
“what’s wrong with him?”
“i don’t know.”
i dashed back and everything from then to somehow ending up in my best friends’ house was a blur, i don’t remember any of it.
It turned out dad was okay, he’d just passed out. But what about the next time it happens? or the time after that? Now i was living in virginia, the house i do now, and dad passes out again within the first week we’ve moved in. I’m forced onto the neighbors whom i don’t know and to this day don’t acquaint with very much, and i’m scared. my aunt eventually comes to our house and lets me and my brother in to get our important things and just be home. Mom and dad come home later, safe and sound. just another episode of passing out.These episodes carried on for the next few years, getting better and better, until we had almost forgotten about them.
a few days, maybe weeks from where i started this story, my dad had another one of these episodes, over a good year or two since the last one, and he falls, cutting his head on a bench in the gym where he is playing basketball with his shipmates. he was finally the captain of a ship, just like he had always dreamed. he got stitches and one night, while i was at a school valentine’s dance (yes, at the catholic school) got to show my mom over Skype since she was here with us and he was in maine because we couldn’t afford to stay up there.
the sunday after that night was when i got pulled from my game. I got dropped off and everything seemed eerie. the way my neighbor treated me seemed strange, my house looked weird, there were cars i didn’t recognize In my driveway. I walk through the front door, my smelly gear bag over my shoulder. I look into the room next to the foyer. Mom’s sitting there crying, my aunt, uncle, grandma, my pastor from my church, and a few other people from the church are all sitting around the table with her, obvious that they had been crying too. I go upstairs and put my bag down, a bit confused by it all, and come back down to crash on the couch.
Mom comes in and calls my brother in too. she sits us down on the couch together and hands us each a tissue before crouching down in front of us, looking down s if searching for the words to say. she looks up at us, and i can tell she’s about to start crying again. she speaks.
“kids…. you know how… how when God and Jesus…. when they decide to call someone home? well….. They decided to call daddy home…. and now he’s with them….”
I sat there, shocked, stunned, I’m sure my jaw dropped. I didn’t know what to do. I was only 12. One thing i remembered saying over and over as my mom hugged me and my brother together, i didn’t cry right away, i just said this.
“we will get through this. we will. i don’t know how. but we’ll get through this. we can make it.”
That was almost 3 years ago now. Now i’m 15. This picture i drew when i was in 9th grade, last year. It says Moe because that was what my dad called me. everyone calls me that now and its one way i can remember my dad.
Dad, if you can see this, or you know what’s going on somehow, I love you, and sooner rather than later, I will be up there with you too. I can’t wait to see you, and despite the tears blinding me as i type this and my body shaking as i recall, Im staying strong, just like you would want me to be. Mat is doing good, still an annoying little brother. Mom misses you, a lot. but what would you expect. we’ve all been growing to know each other more, and to know God more. and we can’t wait to see you again.
With love,
Your only daughter,
Yours truly,
Cant wait to see you again,
Missing you,
Moe…
Friends? Nah.
So do tell me, why are you acting all buddy-buddy again if everyone knows you hate me? hmm.
About me
This is who I was. This is who I am. This is who I will be.
Hey, all. I'm Piper. Welcome to my world! Rather than rambling and saying I don't know what to say on here, I'll just leave it at this:
I'm a girl.
I play video games.
I like manga and anime.
I love art with a passion.
Music too.
I play Ukulele and piano, among others.
I love my God.
I'm a vegetarian.
