And I Thought I Was Strong

I always thought I was strong. I grew up with parents who both worked. That left me alone most days after school to do for myself. I was blessed to be raised in the Southern woods of Mississippi where I could practice my independence at a young age. I can still recall the first fish I caught, and hunting in the deep pine forests alone at 10 years of age. People say I remind them so much of my maternal grandfather. I never met him, but the stories people tell of him are stories of a kind and humble man. Stories of him leaving food on doorsteps of the less fortunate in our community never staying long enough to be discovered or thanked. Stories of a good and strong man. But this story isn't about me or my grandfather. It's about my wife, Nan.
As a young girl in 1975 she left everything she knew and stepped aboard a shrimp boat sitting at the dock of the Saigon River in South Vietnam, and with faith and courage alone never looked back. How she survived that long and dangerous voyage into the open sea I cannot imagine. If you are interested in more of her story just look for Nan's Papaya in this blog. I wrote this to honor Nan and her Mother. Both women of incredible courage.
Recently Nan has undergone multiple surgeries, 6 months of chemotherapy, been hospitalized for pneumonia, and endured the pain of breast cancer. It's been two long years of living on faith. When I ask myself where she finds the strength to go through it all, I remember who she is and her strong constitution she inherited from her Mother. What a blessing it is to be her husband. My God, I thought I was the strong one.