My mother worries, although she has gotten better, she worries because she loves…hard. She loves harder and more unconditionally than any person I have ever known. She will sing and dance with you in a parking lot or a store, cry thinking about when we were young and how much we’ve grown, pray on her hands and knees that God will protect us and watch over us. She’ll cook for you at any time, you could decide you are in the mood for some food at 4 am and she’ll whip up a full meal and take such joy in doing it for you. She will completely inconvenience herself to make sure we have whatever we need, and will never one time complain about all that she has given up for our sake. She is like a warrior ready to go to battle for her family at a moments notice.
My father is large and intimidating to those that do not know him. He is surprisingly gentle and kind to those fortunate enough to see who he really is. He is a supporter, a rock, a man who will work hard at a job that wears on his strong frame, he will do it day in and day out without a word. He will work 12 hour shifts and then come home and after barely getting a few hours sleep rise to spend time with me if I’m visiting, even though he is exhausted and his body aches. He will let my nieces put makeup on him just because it makes them happy, he will have an impromptu dance party in the kitchen to Lady GaGa if we want to, he will play both the Wizard of Oz and the Cowardly Lion in our family rendition of the Wizard of Oz and he’ll play his parts with gusto because he loves spending time with us. He is a big man filled with a big love.
This is me, and my perfectly amazing parents.