By Kylie Mitchell
When my step-dad, Sam, came into my life at the age of eight, things started to get a lot brighter. The sun seemed to shine just a little bit more. The Irish sparkle that was once in my mom’s eyes was now back, the same sparkle that I hadn’t seen in years, yet was so easy to recognize. I had endured a very mean, nasty, and not to mention juvenile divorce between my abusive sperm donor (I don’t even give him the pleasure of calling him my father) and my mom. The day I found out that my dad, Sam, had cancer changed my life forever, and the days that followed proved to be the cause for change in my life, and a newfound appreciation of the finer things.
Prior to my high-school graduation were just as expected, filled with a witch’s brew of excitement, fear and a mass amount of confusion. My dad hadn’t been feeling well, and had a noticeable lack of energy. He just wasn’t as enthused about things like he used to be. Yet he still forked out the cash needed in order for me to have the graduation experience that I had anticipated for the last four years. The Tuesday before my graduation he had gone to the doctor and had come home with no bad news. Well, for me at least. I knew that he and my mom were hiding something from me. I could just tell. The hustle and bustle that had recently taken residence in my home in anticipation for my big day had drained. It now seemed mind-numbingly quiet. I swore my ears were going to bleed, because of awkward silences. However, the next few days went on without any glitches. I had graduated from high school and officially took my first big step towards success.
I was on my way home from Grad Nite on a humid Friday morning sitting next to my boyfriend. I was taking in everything I could, looking around, trying to enjoy every last bittersweet drop of high school and my amazing classmates. We arrived at my high school, and after waking my boyfriend up,...