How Did My Parents Do This?

At the time of high school - in my mind - my parents knew nothing about me, understood nothing about me, looked nothing like me, and when I used to scream at them "YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE ME!" I saw the hurt that I inflicted in the way they looked back at me silently. And while it felt good to physically scream and get it out of my system - the release was never something I was proud of or would brag to friends about. Unfortunately, genetics would never be someone we could slam against a brick wall and force the answers from.
There were many times when I was confused and at a loss for ways to connect with my parents. Mentally I knew that my differences from everyone else in the family weren't anyone's fault. I'd paid attention enough in Biology to know what a genetic mutation is, had passed the test about Punnet Squares; and yet somehow there still seemed to be this huge chasm that no one was making any effort to close. There were many nights in high school where I would think, aren't parents supposed to be making things easier for their children? Why is everything so difficult? Why does it need to be such a struggle just to get on to the other side, never mind have everyone see eye-to-eye? 

It wasn't until I was half-way through college that the chasm began to close. It took me months away from home, a semester out of the state, a handful of fractures I never told them about, and many other things they probably didn't even know existed before I began to understand. (It might be awhile longer before I can verbalize that understanding though..) Now, instead of asking questions like "Why won't my parents let me get a permit when all my other friends are getting a permit?" These are the questions I have now:

  1. Where did you find the patience to deal with all of the medical care?
  2. How did you know to keep pushing me to be the best?  
  3. What did you do when you were afraid?  
  4. Why didn't you stop when everyone said "she can't?" 
  5. What went through your mind when you found out there is no answer?
  6. Would you change anything that you did? 
  7. What are your hopes for me and my brothers?
  8. Where did all of your resilience come from? 
  9. What did you think about in the post-op family waiting room?
  10. Was it exciting or terrifying when you first held me?
  11. What are the things you are afraid of for me? 
  12. Do you think you've done all that you could have for me as parents? 
I can't answer any of those questions. Well, except for that last one. The answer to that last question is an unwavering and resounding "yes, you've done everything and more." 

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