The family is a haven in a heartless world.

Growing up everyone always says, "well one day you will be glad to have your brother and when that day comes you will realize you shouldn't pick on him so much because he will be bigger than you."
That day came faster than I thought when my brother pinned me down in the heat of a fight in high school, not much longer after he started wrestling.
Yeah, I was stupid for that one. I deserved it.
Being one of the boys taught me a lot of things that I didn't realize until I grew up. It taught me to fight when necessary and work hard for what you want. That make-up and high heels are necessary and only use them when you need them the most. It made me independent, no relying on anyone else to get things done for me. If you want it done right, do it yourself. It also taught me to fight things out. Well, as my mother would say, "take it outside, I don't want any of your blood on my carpet."
Who could blame her?
I truly believe that is the way to handle things though. Maybe not always physically, especially because I would frequently lose against my brother these days, but always just you and whoever you have the problem with. I believe fighting is part of life. I've grown closer to my brothers by fighting with them. And fighting for them.
It wasn't until I started having chick friends that I realized that this is a little unacceptable in girl world. For whatever reason, you aren't supposed to ever fight or you are never friends again. Like Cady says in "Mean Girls," in girl world, all the fighting is done behind closed doors.
It doesn't take much for them to turn on you and when they do, expect your secrets to be spread amongst surrounding friends. Expect a silent war where every friend has to take a side, or else. It's ridiculous.
And then I remembered how much cleaning I've done.
And I let it go.
And moved on.
Drama free life.
I must admit it is difficult to keep friends close after all this. You feel like you can't trust anybody. And to be honest, right now I don't. I only trust strangers, a journal, my family, and I guess you people (strangers of the internet).
Because those you trust with secrets will tell them, no matter what they say. They will tell them to someone who would be interested. Or, if you upset them, even those who wouldn't.
But now, none of it matters.
As I watched my grandmother breathing on a ventilator, kidney's failing, in the intensive care unit tonight, I realized I didn't care about any of it. Even if she doesn't make it through the weekend, she will take whatever parts of my heart and soul I entrusted to her with her to the grave.
As will the rest of my family.
I look around at a lot of families who aren't as comfortable with each other and I can't help but thank God. Even if everything in my life is going wrong, I am still so lucky to be a part of this group of people. They are so welcoming to everyone and pass no judgments. We are a family of people that make huge mistakes without the money to buffer them. But it is the greatest of sinners that have the most compassionate and forgiving hearts.
And that is what makes Thanksgiving my favorite holiday. The realization of what you have. I realize it every year because this is when I get to see my family, everyone stays at home for Christmas.
As I held back tears to make my grandmother think I was strong enough to hold her pain and be positive about the situation, I couldn't help but realize how fragile life is. How important every stupid test they run is. When you hold you breath waiting for results or sit bedside encouraging zen and peace into the room so she can breathe well enough to take the ventilator out, that's when you realize what you truly love.
Hospitals are horribly depressing places.
But they are places where hope shines, no matter how feebly, and where families grow stronger.
Your thoughts, prayers, chants, etc. would be appreciated in that I will be able to spend at least one more Thanksgiving with my grandmother.