Just now, I was crying while speaking to my granddaughter on the phone, whose 25th birthday we’d recently celebrated. I was the first to hold her because my daughter delivered by emergency C-section due to Denali’s breech presentation. Ever since, I’ve sensed she is the reincarnation of my daddy’s spirit. I hope that doesn’t threaten my credibility to my readers.

My mother has told me she’s disappointed in me. I ruined her attempt to brain-heart-wash me into her ‘born again’ christian religion. But it wasn’t until 1984, when I was 38, that I became courageous enough to bear the rejection of my friends, my church community. Only two of them remain distant friends.

For the past 2 years I’ve endured rejection by my brother because I write an annual holiday-new years letter about important experiences of the year and share feelings of love for my family.

Two years ago, I’d planned to stay with my brother in DC, where the Psychotherapy Networker Symposium hosts approximately 3,000 therapist types, attending workshops to improve our therapeutic capabilities. When I didn’t comply with his wishes to not write about my visit to my nephew Joshua, imprisoned in Florida – he emailed, “You’re uninvited.”

Now, I feel threatened wondering if my sister will abandon me when she reads this essay in the SUN. (I’m smiling because I have submitted over 300 readers writes essays and none have been published.) I have visited Joshua with her at least four times.

I choose to throw away that fear, as I do of crying while telling Denali of my insensitivity to my daddy, when he wrote to me while attending nursing school, thoughtful and detailed weekly letters. Once, dad wrote of his sadness to have missed me saying goodbye (tears) after my weekend visit. I hadn’t taken the time to say goodbye.

So, when Denali didn’t come to my home this week to see my huge Jade in full bloom, a rarity to see its dainty white flowers – after asking three times – I felt unimportant to her like my daddy must have felt.