Just a man. That’s all he was and would be to me. My mother seemed to see something in him, enough to introduce him to me and my younger sister, but that does not change anything that’s happened. It does not heal the pain I still feel from the three years of watching my parents fall apart. I was unsure who to blame until now. It had to be my mom. The hope that my parents would soon get back together was suddenly gone. It felt official: a broken family is all that I would ever have. There would be no place to call my home, just houses. I feel so misunderstood, as if I’m walking around, screaming for help and understanding, but no one hears my cry. I can tell I’m growing into a pessimist. After the divorce and passing of several close family members what was there to look forward to in my life? More heartache?  Standing outside of the rental house I hated, I shook his hand, faked a smile, and rushed to my car. I wanted no part in this. Good luck, man.
The next few encounters with the man are much like the first. I don’t say much. I watch nerves gravitate as he tries his hardest to get to know me. It is almost as if he can sense my hard exterior. I appreciate the effort. He keeps coming around.  My sister seems to like him, but of course she does; she is the happy-go-lucky one. They are always laughing as they talk. I listen in to some of their conversations. He’s pretty funny. I observe the man and my mom as they cook yet another dinner together. The way he looks at her; it’s so innocent. The way she looks at him; it’s so captivating.  A smile takes over my face before I can think to stop myself. The more I see of them together the more smiles I am unable to resist. In these moments I knew this man, Cary, would be important to us. The very reason for my hardening will be the same for my surrender: family.
I’m laughing, I’m crying, I’m expressing myself with different emotions besides anger! I can talk to him about anything; I have even talked to him about my parents’ divorce. He listens attentively, he always listens attentively. He tells me the story of the time he got caught skipping school because he ended up in the hospital. My mom and dad have been all over my case about my attendance. It’s comforting to know that he was also the rebellious child in his family. He always helps me to know that I am not the only one; I trust Cary. I dare even say that I consider him a best friend. We have had so many fun times together. I think of watching The Office, Saturday Night Live, and YouTube videos we quote CONSTANTLY. I think of turning doughnuts in my high school parking lot when school was cancelled because of snow... Oh! Then there’s the time we had a competition to see who could steal the coolest thing from a restaurant. I think he beat me. I would never admit that to him though! When I open the kitchen cabinet, that **** IHOP coffee mug still smirks at me, gloating, reminding me of my defeat. I think back to the first day we met; we certainly have come quite the distance. My insecurities are replaced with confidence. He has helped me find myself and develop my character into someone who is proud to be different. I like who I am.
May 16th 2011: he calls to wish me good luck, and to tell me how proud he was of me for making it as far as I had. I calm my nerves, get dressed and adjust my cheerleading bow. Today was my day. Today was the day I was going to make The University of Alabama’s first all-girl cheerleading squad. I leave the gym as one of the lucky few who has made it to the final round. The countdown begins as I wait for the list to be posted. This is it. I slowly walk towards the door. Girls pass me crying because their world was shattered. Girls pass me screaming in excitement because their dream came true. I take a deep breath and look at the paper. Makenzie Hill, Makenzie Hill, Makenzie Hill… MAKENZIE HILL! That’s me! My dream came true! I run to the car and my mom is ecstatic. We are jumping and crying tears of joy. I celebrate with my cousin and my Godmother as my mom goes to make phone calls. She returns, tears still flowing, but the joy has left her eyes. What’s wrong? My world was shattered. May 16th 2011: the day I lost my stepfather and best friend.
I place my bow in his cold hand. My voice won’t hold steady “I did it, Cary. I made it.” My mind and heart race each other as overwhelming emotions and questions fill me. I begin wondering how we will ever manage to pull ourselves together again as a family. I remember Cary. He taught me that it is okay to trust things you are unsure of. He taught me the importance of family and time together. He taught me faith. I must stay strong for him. The man I once wanted no part of is forever a part of me. He is my angel.