What You Mean to Me
by Kathleen Byron
The rest of the family and I never clicked, however, you and I always saw eye to eye. I could never tell if it was because we were so close in age or simply because you gave me the type of nurturing no one else understood I needed. Maybe it is because we have always been so much alike. Maybe it is because I strive to be like you.
When I was scared that I might be in trouble, I was always able to come to you with the things I could not trust anyone else with. The time I was incredibly inebriated and found myself lost at a party where I did not know a soul, you were there to find me—the big sister I always needed but never had the luxury of having. I want to tell you today all the ways you inspire me and make me want to be better.
When you were in high school, I think maybe it was junior year for you, you were admitted into an outpatient facility. The admittance was originally thought to be a mental disorder but was later found to be water on the brain. I didn't have a single clue what the facility was at the time, because I was only 5. I remember missing you so very much. Mum had asked me if I wanted to see you, and I jumped ecstatically at the idea. This assured her, and we went the following day.
Upon arrival we walked through some thick-paned, heavy glass doors and were greeted by a front desk manager who paged you. Eagerly I clutched my knees together to avoid running all over. I still remember exactly how you looked as you walked down that hallway towards me, your faded-rose-pink half Chelsea haircut with chocolate peach-fuzz roots, baggy Misfits sweater, black Tripp pants and Doc Martins. You greeted me with the usual, elated “KATHLEEN!” that I’ve come to love dearly, and I bound into your arms. You took my hand and lead me around the facility. Every bit of it was so intriguing. You showed me your room, and the gym, and last on the tour was the game room. At this point it was my final few minutes with you. You followed Mum and I outside for a cigarette. Camels. One of Mum’s. You gave me a deep hug and suddenly released. “I almost forgot!” You ran inside and came out with your hands behind your back. “Close your eyes, Bean!” suddenly I felt a large overwhelming fluffy presence pressed against my frail body. I opened my eyes and was astounded by the bear that was twice the size of myself. I asked you what his name was and you replied, “Boris.” I felt it fitting for such a larger than life brown bear. “I won him for you in the game room. Now when you miss me you can hug him and think of me.”
Remembering this reminds me that even when I am feeling as if I am completely alone and lost in the world, I always have you in my corner. Not only that, it reminds me of the duty I have as an older sister to be a sanctuary and a protector for my siblings, just as you have always been for me.
As we each grew older with time, so did our waistlines. At the ripe age of 20, you had gotten quite uncomfortable with how heavyset you were. It was painful, and I was in the same boat but much younger. You made a decision and from that moment on you changed the game.
You decided that where you were, how unhappy you had gotten, would be the last time you ever felt that way and you set to work. From what you have explained to me, your fears at the beginning of this life-changing journey were the same as mine are now. “Where do I begin?” “How do I continue?” “When will I stop being hungry” “Will this ever get any easier?” and yet you made your way.
You told me of each step you took: not drinking calories, walking everywhere, portion control—allowing yourself to have whatever you wanted but making sure you were aware of the portions you were actually eating. In a year and a half I watched you wither away. You proved to me that even though I felt as if it would never be possible, with hard work and dedication, you can lose 150lbs and become healthy.
It has been 7 years since your initial drop. Three years since you've started to gain it back. At this point in time I am now the same weight you were when you started 8 odd years ago, scared and reluctant just as you were. Feeling weak and undetermined. And yet again, here you are to motivate me.
Each day (just about) we head to the gym together. We talk and we laugh as we shuffle our way through a light jog on the treadmill. We gawk and giggle at a regular who we now refer to as “muscle man Randy Savage.” We push each other through a quick ab blaster routine with exuberant giggles and excessively loud countdowns of praise. Without any of this, I am not sure I would be able to find the strength to continue.
Every day we make our little goals towards healthier lives, and each day we high five like idiots when we accomplish them. I am sure you know all of this by now but I just wanted to remind you that you inspire me to change my way of thinking.
Recently there has been an overwhelming amount of difficulties for me to overcome. Continuing with college has been first and foremost, as you know. Before the semester began, I was feeling my most alone. This was because no one in our family has attended college besides you and me so no one knew how to help me. As you often do, you took me to find the people who knew how to help. You guided me through all of the financial aid processes and forms on the Internet. You pushed me to do better. Without your support, guidance, and sheer love, I can promise you I would have given up on college before it even started.
I know that you do not do any of this because you have to, Auntie. You do it because you have a heart and because you love harder than anyone in this world ever could. You give without expectation of receiving and never take more than you need or can repay. With each passing day, I recognize the struggles you have overcome yourself, including hospitalization, weight gain, and money issues. I watch you overcome them not with grace and ease, but tears and will power, which shows me that it is okay if you fall down as long as you always get back up.
You never cease to inspire me to always do better, be better, and treat others better.
Kathleen Byron is a criminal justice major enrolled at North Shore Community College in Danvers, Massachusetts. Her interests include but are not limited to poetry, playing and listening to music, horseback riding, creating art, and helping others. In the near future she plans to follow the career path to become a corrections officer while working towards her law and business degrees to become a private practicing lawyer.
by Kathleen Byron
The rest of the family and I never clicked, however, you and I always saw eye to eye. I could never tell if it was because we were so close in age or simply because you gave me the type of nurturing no one else understood I needed. Maybe it is because we have always been so much alike. Maybe it is because I strive to be like you.
When I was scared that I might be in trouble, I was always able to come to you with the things I could not trust anyone else with. The time I was incredibly inebriated and found myself lost at a party where I did not know a soul, you were there to find me—the big sister I always needed but never had the luxury of having. I want to tell you today all the ways you inspire me and make me want to be better.
When you were in high school, I think maybe it was junior year for you, you were admitted into an outpatient facility. The admittance was originally thought to be a mental disorder but was later found to be water on the brain. I didn't have a single clue what the facility was at the time, because I was only 5. I remember missing you so very much. Mum had asked me if I wanted to see you, and I jumped ecstatically at the idea. This assured her, and we went the following day.
Upon arrival we walked through some thick-paned, heavy glass doors and were greeted by a front desk manager who paged you. Eagerly I clutched my knees together to avoid running all over. I still remember exactly how you looked as you walked down that hallway towards me, your faded-rose-pink half Chelsea haircut with chocolate peach-fuzz roots, baggy Misfits sweater, black Tripp pants and Doc Martins. You greeted me with the usual, elated “KATHLEEN!” that I’ve come to love dearly, and I bound into your arms. You took my hand and lead me around the facility. Every bit of it was so intriguing. You showed me your room, and the gym, and last on the tour was the game room. At this point it was my final few minutes with you. You followed Mum and I outside for a cigarette. Camels. One of Mum’s. You gave me a deep hug and suddenly released. “I almost forgot!” You ran inside and came out with your hands behind your back. “Close your eyes, Bean!” suddenly I felt a large overwhelming fluffy presence pressed against my frail body. I opened my eyes and was astounded by the bear that was twice the size of myself. I asked you what his name was and you replied, “Boris.” I felt it fitting for such a larger than life brown bear. “I won him for you in the game room. Now when you miss me you can hug him and think of me.”
Remembering this reminds me that even when I am feeling as if I am completely alone and lost in the world, I always have you in my corner. Not only that, it reminds me of the duty I have as an older sister to be a sanctuary and a protector for my siblings, just as you have always been for me.
As we each grew older with time, so did our waistlines. At the ripe age of 20, you had gotten quite uncomfortable with how heavyset you were. It was painful, and I was in the same boat but much younger. You made a decision and from that moment on you changed the game.
You decided that where you were, how unhappy you had gotten, would be the last time you ever felt that way and you set to work. From what you have explained to me, your fears at the beginning of this life-changing journey were the same as mine are now. “Where do I begin?” “How do I continue?” “When will I stop being hungry” “Will this ever get any easier?” and yet you made your way.
You told me of each step you took: not drinking calories, walking everywhere, portion control—allowing yourself to have whatever you wanted but making sure you were aware of the portions you were actually eating. In a year and a half I watched you wither away. You proved to me that even though I felt as if it would never be possible, with hard work and dedication, you can lose 150lbs and become healthy.
It has been 7 years since your initial drop. Three years since you've started to gain it back. At this point in time I am now the same weight you were when you started 8 odd years ago, scared and reluctant just as you were. Feeling weak and undetermined. And yet again, here you are to motivate me.
Each day (just about) we head to the gym together. We talk and we laugh as we shuffle our way through a light jog on the treadmill. We gawk and giggle at a regular who we now refer to as “muscle man Randy Savage.” We push each other through a quick ab blaster routine with exuberant giggles and excessively loud countdowns of praise. Without any of this, I am not sure I would be able to find the strength to continue.
Every day we make our little goals towards healthier lives, and each day we high five like idiots when we accomplish them. I am sure you know all of this by now but I just wanted to remind you that you inspire me to change my way of thinking.
Recently there has been an overwhelming amount of difficulties for me to overcome. Continuing with college has been first and foremost, as you know. Before the semester began, I was feeling my most alone. This was because no one in our family has attended college besides you and me so no one knew how to help me. As you often do, you took me to find the people who knew how to help. You guided me through all of the financial aid processes and forms on the Internet. You pushed me to do better. Without your support, guidance, and sheer love, I can promise you I would have given up on college before it even started.
I know that you do not do any of this because you have to, Auntie. You do it because you have a heart and because you love harder than anyone in this world ever could. You give without expectation of receiving and never take more than you need or can repay. With each passing day, I recognize the struggles you have overcome yourself, including hospitalization, weight gain, and money issues. I watch you overcome them not with grace and ease, but tears and will power, which shows me that it is okay if you fall down as long as you always get back up.
You never cease to inspire me to always do better, be better, and treat others better.
Kathleen Byron is a criminal justice major enrolled at North Shore Community College in Danvers, Massachusetts. Her interests include but are not limited to poetry, playing and listening to music, horseback riding, creating art, and helping others. In the near future she plans to follow the career path to become a corrections officer while working towards her law and business degrees to become a private practicing lawyer.
