Family-

Isn't your family the people that are supposed to love you and support you, no matter what happens in life or what you do with it for that matter? I feel like every single decision that I make isn't good enough for them. Unless I am acting the way they want, saying what they want, living the way they want, nothing is good enough. There comes a time where you no longer care about what they think. What I mean by that is, yes, of course I still care about their opinions, thoughts and feelings... But there comes that time where you no longer let them bring you down. I think I am finally at that point and stage in my life. I finally understand what it means to be who you are and if people can't accept that, then they don't deserve to be a part of my every day life. There comes a time when every life goes off course. In this desperate moment you must choose your direction. Will you fight to stay on the path while others tell you who you are? Or will you label yourself? Will you be honored by your choice? Or will you embrace your new path? Each morning you choose to move forward or to simply give up. I have finally chosen to move forward on the path that I personally have chosen to endure, not anyone else.

Only Memories Of What Once Was You: The story of how Iost my daddy.

Just like any normal school night, I was in my kitchen watching cartoons, eating my dinner. I was sitting as close to the TV as I could with my chair pulled up to the countertop like I always did. My mom always complained and said I would end up getting bad eye sight if I continued to do that, but I didn’t care. I liked being right up next to the action.  My father had recently gone to the doctors to get his gallbladder out, but he was still having some stomach problems. So just to be safe, he went back to the doctors with my mother to get more tests done.  As I was finishing up my dinner, the front door swung open and in walked my parents. Looking at the expressions on their faces, I could tell that they had just learned something terribly wrong from the results of the tests
                “Will you go get your brothers and meet us in our bedroom?” my mother asked me kindly with a somber tone in her voice.  I carefully got out of my chair and headed down the stairs where my two brothers were playing video games.  They were sitting on the couch together laughing and yelling at one another playfully.  After I finished telling them what was going on, we climbed the stairs in fear for what we were about to be told.  None of us wanting to speak what was on our mind; we stayed silent and walked through our parent’s bedroom door.  Sitting on the new bedspread they had purchased earlier in the week, still stiff from not being washed yet, we sat in silence for what seemed like hours.  Scanning the freshly maroon painted room for something I could put my focus on instead of the teary eyes of my parents, my eyes landed on a picture hung up on the wall over their bed.  It was a picture of the Latter Day Saint prophet Thomas S. Monson and all of the apostles; they were wearing white colored suits in a beautiful holy temple.  Some were standing and some were sitting, smiling at what I could only imagine was the camera.  The room they were in was an outstandingly gorgeous baptistery, pure and white.  I was sitting there thinking about what it would be like to personally meet each of them when my father’s voice finally broke my trance and the uncomfortable silence.
                Once he had finished talking, I looked at my mother as tears stung in my eyes, “Is it true?” I asked her. “Does dad really have cancer?” As she nodded her head silently I could hardly breathe—the room began to spin and I felt like I was going to be sick.  I stood up and rushed out of the room, running through the hallway and through my bedroom door as I slammed it tightly shut as if I were trying to barricade the news from following me.  Trying to block out the sound of my parents still talking to my two brothers, my hands flew to my head where they were placed over my ears. I didn’t want to hear them talking anymore. I didn’t want it to be real. I suddenly went weak and I felt like I might faint right then and there.  My knees buckled out from underneath me as I crumbled to the floor.  I cried out in despair as I prayed to my Heavenly Father, begging him to please help my family and to help my father. I began to feel overwhelmingly angry with the world and specifically angry towards God. I got up from my knees and in an outbreak of rage and pain I began throwing things.  Everything that was in sight I grabbed and threw across the room: my school text books, a picture frame, pillows, and my lamp.  With every swift throw, the items crashed into the wall and were destroyed.  Carefully picking up the pieces of the picture frame that had shattered against the wall; I stared at the photograph that had been inside.  It was a picture of my family, sitting together in a grassy field, with great big smiles on our faces.  Looking at it I felt a piercing pain in my heart.  How did it so quickly go from a happy family with no problems to a family that was falling apart? I felt like I was dreaming. I was in a nightmare and I wanted to wake up.

In and out of the hospital weekly, having tests and chemotherapy treatments done, he was slowly withering away.  For every week that passed, he began to look more frail and fragile.  The drugs seemed to be making things worse for him, not helping.  He would come home, appointment after appointment, with an anguished look on his face and pain in his eyes.  I couldn’t take it anymore, so I began avoiding him.  I couldn’t handle looking into those dark eyes of his and seeing the pain in them, knowing that there was nothing I could do to help set him free from his affliction.  Looking back on those days, I wish I had reacted differently.  I wish I had taken more time to talk to him, had told him I loved him more often, and spent a little more time with him.  Instead, I had avoided him in the house, staying in my bedroom or even staying out late with friends just to escape looking into those troubled and sorrowful eyes. 
                It was the night before Christmas Eve, and it was my turn to look after my father.  Every day that week my family had been taking turns watching over him through the night and giving him his pain medications.  Earlier in the evening we had celebrated Christmas together.  That same morning my parents had gone to the doctors and were told that it would be wise to celebrate early.  “Just in case,” had been the nurses’ words.

 I looked over and saw him wincing with pain.  He was trying not to make any sound, for fear he’d wake me.   Little did he know, I’d been awake all night watching him; trying to memorize every feature on that face of his.  He had dark olive skin, chocolate brown eyes, thick dark eyebrows, and a smile that could melt anyone with just one look.  I didn’t want to forget anything.  I couldn’t let myself fall asleep or even close my eyes; for fear that he’d leave me.
                I sat up as I asked him, “Do you need more morphine, dad?” He nodded his head yes.  Carefully climbing off of the couch, trying not to disturb him, I grabbed the medicine off of the coffee table in front of us.  With shaky hands I placed the drops in his mouth.

                My eyes heavy with tears, I sat there and watched him.  He’s in so much pain.  Why him?  Why would God choose him?  This wasn’t okay with me.  My dad was my best friend—I told him everything.  Without him, who was I going to go to when I was upset or was having problems with friends or at school?
                Suddenly, there was a noise coming from my father.  I looked over to see him fiddling with his fingers, almost as if he were pressing buttons on a small device. His eyes suddenly flew open and he looked straight at me, “Sorry!”  He exclaimed once he saw the scared expression on my face.  “I thought I was texting Colbie.”  (Colbie is my sister. She was living away from home but had come to visit after hearing the inevitable of his death.)
                Oh no, I thought, it’s too soon.  They told us he had another month.  How can he already be acting this way?  “It’s okay dad. Don’t worry about me.  Can I get you anything else?”
                “I’m okay sweetheart, but thank you,” he replied.  Through the night I lay there trying to cover up the hurt and struggle I felt with this situation of his impending death.  It was so hard to just sit there are watch him literally wasting away.   I wanted my father to think that I wasn’t scared.  I wanted to be strong for him; I needed to be strong for him.

 “Dad,” I said quietly. “Are you scared?”  He looked deep into my eyes as they began to fill with tears yet again.
                “Yes sweetheart. I’m scared.  But not for the reasons you would think.”  I looked at him questioningly as he continued, “I’m scared for you, and for you mother, and for everyone else.  I get to go to a better place where there is no sadness, while you guys have to stay here on this earth and go through more trials and tribulations.  I’m not scared to die. I’m ready.” He began to smile, “bring it on.” he said jokingly.
                With tears streaming down my face, I sat up and looked at him.  I grew profoundly angry with him as he spoke those words to me.  How could he say that? How could he just give up on life?  “Don’t you dare say that, dad. Don’t you dare! How can you say that to me? How can you just give up? I don’t want to live without you; I can’t live without you.  What am I supposed to do when I graduate? I want you to be there sitting in the crowd with mom, cheering for me as I get my diploma.  I want you there in the temple with me when I get married to the love of my life.  I want to have my daddy-daughter dance at my wedding like every other girl out there.  What about when I have kids?  They will grow up not knowing their own grandfather.  Please, please don’t give up on me.  Don’t give up on us,” I cried out. I lay there sobbing uncontrollably as he rubbed my back trying to comfort me. The roles had switched. Instead of me taking care of him that night, he was taking care of me.
                “Ali?” he whispered, eyes glistening. “When you graduate, just have your mother save me a seat and I promise I will be there watching you, cheering you on.  When you get married to your sweetheart, I will be there in the Celestial Room with a smile on my face, as proud as ever.  When you have children of your own, I will be there to look after them.  I will be their guardian angel. Ali, I will always be with you.” 

Hours later, the time had finally come.  Sitting together as a family, watching him in his last moments of life, it seemed so surreal.  Every few minutes his eyes would wander around the room, as if he were searching for something.  I tried to focus on what was happening so suddenly.  I was curled up on the chair next to the couch watching.  I was numb, stunned, and unsure of how I was supposed to react.  These things only happen in movies.  I don’t know what I am supposed to do or how I am supposed to feel?  My older sister and my two brothers were in front of the couch, crouched down by my father.  He looked like he was in such pain and agony as he began to struggle for air.  Swiftly, but reverently, my brother, Sam, took my father’s hand in his and choking back tears he whispered, “Dad, it’s okay. Just go.”  My father then took one last look around the room, and took his final breath.  The sound he made before that last breath will be with me for the rest of my life.  To this day, I can still hear it; exactly as it sounded. 

                To this day I still miss him and I always will.  It will never be the same in my household without him, but now I have another angel on my team, watching me, looking out for me, carrying me, every single step of the way.

                

Making your OWN Decisions

"You can seek advice of others, surround yourself with trusted advisers. But in the end, the decision is always yours and yours alone. And when it's time to act and you're all alone with your back against the wall, the only voice that matters is the one in your head. The one telling you what you already knew. The one that's almost always right."

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Making your own decisions.... It's not easy. I'm sure that everyone out there agrees when I say that life would be so much more simple if you could go to your mom or your dad and have them decide what you should do or tell you who you are. It would be much more simple if the statement, "your parents know best" was in fact true. But it doesn't work out that way. As much as you pray and you wish it were, it's not. So instead, we all must walk this journey alone for awhile and figure out who we independently are. We need to figure out how to do this without the influence of others or everyone's own opinions clouding our thoughts and mind. In the end, all that should matter is yourself; how you feel, what you think, what you want, who you are or who you want to become. I understand that it is impossible to avoid influence all-together. It's everywhere around us. On TV, in the books we read, the music that we listen to, the people we associate with at work or in our own spare time, even our closest family and friend. Everything influences in some way or another. What matters is how we use those opinions and influences, and what we do with them. Are we going to listen to what they say and become who THEY want us to mold into or become? Or are we going to push what everyone else thinks to the back of our minds, the back of our hearts, and are we going to become who we OURSELVES want to become and who we OURSELVES want to be? That's where I am right now. Trying to make sense of this beautiful mess of a world.

A Little Get To Know Me Game-

My Favorite things:

Book:
The Secret Journal of Brett Colton

Movie:
Braveheart

Color:
Lime Green and Teal

Animal:
Bear and Elephant


Drink:
Diet Coke

Candy:
Star-burst and Skittles

Music:
Country, Country, Country

Quote:
"Knock on the sky and listen to the sound"
"Your future lies before you like a field of fallen snow. Be careful how you tread it, for every step will show"

I Never Want To Get Old...

Yesterday as I was driving home from work, I saw an old man in his late 80's walking in the middle, turning lane with a grocery cart; wide eyed and looking terrified. Not sure what he was doing or what was going on, I pulled into the turning lane and got out to see if he was okay. I asked him his name and what he was doing.. No response. He knew what I was saying but couldn't speak. He just continued to stare at me with his terrified, wide eyes. I asked him to get his wallet out so that I could see where he lived and what his name was. With shaky hand he reached into his pocket and took it out, hesitantly handing it to me. I found out where he lived and helped him into my car, all the while he is still shaking uncontrollably and freaked out from all of the cars speeding by around him.  I packed up his cart into my car and drove to the address that was on his license, praying that's where he was currently living. We got to his home and I walked him up his front steps and knocked on the front door. The door swung open and this little old women burst into tears when she saw him. She looked at me and said, "I've been looking for him for hours". Poor old man. Poor old women..... I never want to get old. EVER. So sad.

15 Things About Me

1. My full name is Alison Kate Nisson (Leatham)

2. I have had type one diabetes since July 8th 2006.

3.I am a triplet. 2 boys and me.

4. I am the biggest daddy's girl you will ever meet.

5. I play the guitar and sing.

6. I write my own lyrics and music to songs.

7. I love the outdoors; camping, hiking, biking, rock climbing, river rafting.

8. I consider myself a pretty big nerd; I read in my spare time and write poems.

9. I work at CLEARLINK as a QA Compliance, and I LOVE it.

10. My birthday is November 12, 1993.

11. I love photography. The way that people can capture particular moments intrigues me.
 
12. I am obsessed with the TV series One Tree Hill.

13. I have a major girl crush on Sophia Bush.

14. I have recently become overly obsessed with shoes. Mainly heels.

15. I love country music.