Whole-hearted

There are some people in this world who make kindness almost effortless. You don't have to think about it, you don't have to remind yourself to be patient, and you certainly don't have to look very hard to find something wonderful about them. They're just genuinely good people. The kind who appreciate the smallest things, who love with everything they have, and who somehow manage to make the people around them want to be better. I have one of those people in my life, and I swear, if I could wrap this girl up and protect her from every unkind person in the world, I probably would. Of course, she'd eventually get tired of being wrapped in bubble wrap, and I'd have to let her out so she could go live her life. Which, ironically, is exactly what I've been trying to help her do for years.

Her name is Valerie. Well, that's what we're going to call her. Technically, she's my ex's niece, but let me make something perfectly clear. She's MY niece. By magical relation. I don't care what a family tree says, and I certainly don't care what happened to the marriage that originally connected us. Some relationships are simply too important to disappear because of a divorce. Valerie is one of those relationships, and I couldn't be prouder to claim her as family.

Now, before I tell you why this young woman means so much to me, you need to understand a little about the life she's lived. Valerie was born with half a heart. And no, that's not a metaphor. She literally came into this world with only half a heart, and the doctors told her family she wasn't expected to live beyond six months. SIX MONTHS! Can you imagine being told that about your newborn baby? Yet here she is, more than two decades later, living a life those doctors never expected her to have. She's undergone five heart surgeries, one brain surgery, surgery on her hand, surgery on her leg, and oral surgery. Nine surgeries altogether. NINE! When she was only nine months old, she suffered a stroke after being given the wrong medication for her heart. The stroke affected the left side of her brain, leaving the right side of her body paralyzed. She also experienced seizures and eventually underwent brain surgery to stop them. Just imagine growing up with all of that. The appointments, the hospitals, the recoveries, the limitations, and the constant uncertainty. And that's before we even get to the ordinary challenges of being a kid.

But here's where Valerie's story gets really interesting, because this girl apparently didn't get the memo that she was supposed to let any of that stop her from accomplishing things. She went to school with kids her own age, kept up with her classmates, and graduated right alongside them. She was never held back. Just two weeks before walking across that graduation stage, Valerie had undergone her fifth heart surgery. Her grades were slipping, she was recovering from major surgery, and she still had schoolwork to finish. I knew about her surgery, of course, but when we were recently talking about her graduation, she reminded me of just how much she'd accomplished in those final weeks. Now, I don't know about you, but two weeks after heart surgery, I would imagine most people would be concentrating on recovering, not worrying about getting their grades up in time to graduate.

Not Valerie. She worked to bring those grades back up, finished what she needed to finish, and walked across that graduation stage with the classmates she'd grown up with. During our recent conversation, she told me, "I walked across that fucking stage like it was nothing and I will forever be proud of that." WELL, HELL YES, GIRL! YOU SHOULD BE! I absolutely love that she said that. Not because she was trying to impress anyone or because she wanted someone to feel sorry for her, but because she knows exactly what it took to get there. She knows how hard she worked, what she had to overcome, and how much that moment meant. That diploma wasn't just a piece of paper. It represented years of determination, and that walk across the stage was hers. Nobody handed it to her, and nobody can ever take it away.

And here's something else that makes me admire Valerie so much. I've known people who have faced far fewer obstacles than she has, yet they've allowed their disappointments, circumstances, or the things that happened years ago to become the reason they stopped moving forward. I've watched people become so consumed by everything that's gone wrong that they seem to forget there's still a life waiting to be lived. Now, I understand that everyone handles hardship differently, and I would never pretend to know every battle another person is fighting. But I also believe there's a difference between needing time to heal and allowing the past to become your entire future. Valerie has never been one to sit around waiting for life to become easy before she decides to live it. She's had every reason to feel defeated, and I'm sure she's had moments when she has. But she keeps going. I've known people who have allowed their circumstances to become the end of their story. Valerie keeps finding reasons to write another chapter. And I wish more people could see the value in that.

Unfortunately, graduating high school wasn't the beginning of the carefree young adulthood I wish she'd been able to enjoy. Just one month later, when Valerie was eighteen, she lost her older brother to suicide. He wasn't just her brother. He was her protector, the person she looked up to, and someone who had always made her feel safe. Valerie was the one who discovered his suicide note and went looking for him. She found him, and in that moment, her world changed forever. I can't imagine the pain of losing someone you love that deeply, especially in such a traumatic way. And while I know that grief affects everyone differently, I also know that losing someone who has been your source of security can leave you wondering where you're supposed to find that security again.

After her brother's death, Valerie eventually came to live with my ex and me. I knew she was hurting, and I knew there were things I couldn't fix for her, no matter how much I wanted to. But I also knew that she had an entire life ahead of her, and I didn't want her to believe that the tragedies she'd experienced were going to determine what that life looked like. So we started working on things that might seem ordinary to some people but were important steps toward independence for Valerie. I helped her get her disability benefits restored. We opened her first bank account. I researched what it might take for her to learn to drive. I wanted her to have her own money, her own choices, and the freedom to experience life as a young adult. I wanted her to be able to do things because she wanted to, not only because someone else was available to help her.

Now, I should probably explain something about my relationship with Valerie. I'm not always the sweet aunt who tells her everything she wants to hear. Sometimes I'm the aunt who tells her exactly what she DOESN'T want to hear. I've had to step into a parental role with her at times, and believe me, that doesn't always make me the most popular person in the room. I love this girl with my whole heart, but I'm also going to push her to take responsibility for herself, make decisions about her future, and keep moving forward when life gets difficult. My message to her has always been pretty simple: Keep marching on. This obstacle does not define you, and neither will the next. That doesn't mean she isn't allowed to grieve, cry, get frustrated, or have days when she just doesn't feel like dealing with the world. She's human, for crying out loud! But I want her to have every opportunity to build the life she wants, and sometimes that means being the person who gives her a little tough love along with all the hugs.

Eventually, Valerie moved to Utah to be closer to her family, and I hoped she would continue finding her footing. Unfortunately, things didn't turn out the way any of us would have wanted. Her housing situation became unstable when she discovered she hadn't been included on the lease where she was living. Then came the heartbreak of a relationship with someone who wasn't faithful to her. Later, she met someone else, fell in love, and got married. I wanted so badly for that chapter to be a happy one. I wanted her to experience the excitement of building a future with someone, making plans, and feeling loved and secure. But instead, she experienced the devastating loss of a pregnancy and the pain of repeated infidelity in her marriage.

And I'm going to tell you something. This is where I get angry. Not because I think Valerie should somehow be exempt from heartbreak. Unfortunately, none of us gets that guarantee. But because I KNOW this girl. I know how much love she has to give. I know how thoughtful she is, how generous she can be, and how genuinely grateful she is when someone shows her kindness. So why is it so difficult for some people to treat her with the same respect and consideration she gives them? Why would someone promise to love a person and then repeatedly make choices that hurt them? I'm not asking anyone to put Valerie on a pedestal because of her medical history or everything she's survived. I'm asking why basic kindness, honesty, and faithfulness seem to be so difficult for some people to manage.

Now, there's another relationship in Valerie's life that I haven't told you much about yet, and it's one of my absolute favorites. Her relationship with my daughter. These two have a bond that I honestly think is pretty special. When they're living apart, they talk EVERY SINGLE DAY. And I'm not talking about a quick little text to check in. They talk multiple times a day! They're incredibly close, and that closeness has continued no matter how many miles have separated them. They've shared a bedroom before, and apparently, they actually enjoyed it. I know, right? Two people who LIKE sharing a bedroom? Personally, I love my own space. I love having somewhere I can close the door and be left alone with my thoughts. But these two? They seem to genuinely enjoy having each other around all the time. Whatever works for them, I guess! LOL!

Recently, my daughter went to Utah and brought Valerie home. She came back with three bags of clothes and another chance to start over. Three bags. That's what she brought with her from the life she'd been trying to build. So now we're rearranging things again. My granddaughter is sleeping with me, and my daughter and Valerie are sharing a bedroom once more. And the funniest part? They actually seem EXCITED about it! Here I am wondering how two grown women could possibly want to share a room, and they're over there acting like they're getting their old sleepover arrangement back. I suppose when you have a friendship as close as theirs, sharing a room doesn't feel like giving something up. It feels like getting something back. And honestly, after everything Valerie has been through, seeing her excited about something so simple makes me happy.

We're figuring out the logistics and working toward getting Valerie back on her feet. We're looking into getting her disability benefits reestablished, finding employment, and exploring what it would take for her to drive independently. I don't want her to spend her twenties sitting around waiting for someone else to make life happen for her. I want her to experience the freedom of going somewhere because she feels like going. I want her to have friends, make memories, learn new things, and discover what makes her happy. And having my daughter right there beside her, someone who knows her so well and genuinely enjoys her company, makes this fresh start feel a little less overwhelming.

And yes, I'm still going to be tough on her. I'm still going to encourage her to take the next step, even when life feels overwhelming. But one thing I've never had to teach Valerie is that her physical limitations don't define what she's willing to try. She has never been the kind of person who automatically gives up on something because it might be difficult. What I want to help her with now is finding the resources, opportunities, and support that will allow her to do more of the things she's already interested in doing. Independence doesn't look exactly the same for everyone, and there's nothing wrong with needing help along the way. The goal isn't to prove she can do absolutely everything without anybody. The goal is for her to have as much freedom, confidence, and control over her own life as possible.

Here's what I really wish people understood about Valerie. She's not some poor, helpless girl who needs the world to feel sorry for her. And she's not a superhero who has to be strong every single minute of every single day. She's a young woman who wants the same things so many other young women want. She wants to be loved. She wants to be happy. She wants to feel secure. She wants to have fun, experience life, and be appreciated for who she is. She has bad days, makes mistakes, gets frustrated, and sometimes needs someone to tell her to get her butt moving. She's a real person, not a collection of medical records and sad experiences. And when you get past everything life has put her through, you discover one of the sweetest, most thoughtful people you could ever hope to meet.

One of the things that means the most to me about Valerie is how genuinely appreciative she is. I cannot count the number of times she's thanked me for helping her, for being there, or simply for caring about what happens to her. And it's not some automatic little thank-you she says out of obligation. She means it. She makes sure I know that what I've done for her matters. And I hope she knows that she matters just as much to me. I don't help her because I expect recognition or because I want someone to tell me what a wonderful person I am. I help her because I love her, because she's family, and because I want to see her succeed. But having someone genuinely appreciate your efforts? That's a kindness all its own, and Valerie gives it so naturally.

Sometimes I think about all the people I've encountered who have had every opportunity in the world and still manage to be rude, ungrateful, or downright cruel to others. Then I think about Valerie. Here's a young woman who has endured nine surgeries, survived a stroke, lost someone she loved beyond words, and experienced more heartbreak than I would wish on anybody. Yet she still has so much love to give. She's generous, thoughtful, sweet, and appreciative. I know that having a difficult life doesn't automatically make someone kind, just as having an easy life doesn't automatically make someone unkind. But there's something remarkable about a person who has every reason to be angry at the world and still chooses to show love to the people around her.

I tell Valerie how proud I am of her all the time. At least, I hope I tell her enough. Because sometimes I wonder whether there are even words big enough to explain how proud of her I really am. I'm proud of that eighteen-year-old girl who walked across her graduation stage just two weeks after heart surgery. I'm proud of the young woman who's had to find her way through grief and disappointment. I'm proud of her for trying again when things haven't worked out. But more than anything, I'm proud of the person she is. She doesn't have to accomplish something extraordinary tomorrow to earn that pride. She doesn't have to overcome another obstacle to prove she's strong. And she certainly doesn't have to endure more suffering to deserve happiness. She is worthy of love, kindness, and respect simply because she's Valerie.

More than anything, I want this next chapter of Valerie's life to be a happy one. I want her to have her independence, her own accomplishments, wonderful friendships, and all those ordinary little adventures that make being young so much fun. I want her to find someone who recognizes how much love she has to give and treats that love with the respect it deserves. But I also want her to know that she doesn't need a relationship to make her life complete. She's already enough, exactly as she is. And whatever comes next, I'll be right here cheering her on, probably giving her a lecture or two, and reminding her of something I've told her for years: Keep marching on. This obstacle does not define you, and neither will the next.

When I think about Valerie, I don't want people to remember her because of everything she's been through. I want them to remember the way she treats people, the genuine appreciation she shows, and how incredibly easy she makes it to love her. She has one of the biggest, kindest hearts of anyone I've ever known, and I wish more people understood just how valuable that is. Kindness shouldn't require a tragic backstory. It should be something we give freely, because every person deserves to be treated with respect and compassion. But when someone as genuinely loving and thoughtful as Valerie comes into your life, I have to wonder why anyone would choose to treat her any other way.

Dude... how on earth could you possibly be rude to this amazing chick?