To The Bravest Niece I Have

The day you were born, my mom made us pray. We knew something happened to your heart, and you had to spend some time in another hospital.

At the time, I was growing up Christian. A nine-year-old girl is scared for her newborn niece. I did what my mom asked. We prayed, and we prayed, and we prayed. For nine days, we prayed while you laid in a Grand Rapids hospital.

As a kid, all I knew was you were born with a heart condition. I knew part of your heart worked. I don't remember hearing it called by its name until I was in my twenties. Just the name Ebstein's anomaly makes me shudder.

As you grew, I noticed you still did most things like a normal kid, but you never let things get you down. You were filled with a fiery passion that let the world know you weren't someone to mess with. You had goals to reach, and no one was getting in your way!

And then you found out you needed open-heart surgery

I can't imagine being in my early twenties and finding out I'd need open-heart surgery. I can't imagine wanting to go under the knife at that age at all. And yes, I could tell you were scared. You didn't always show it, but I could tell you thought about it a lot.

If anyone asked you, you were open about your feelings about needing surgery. You often posted pictures of potential tattoos afterward to cover your scar. The last one I remembered was a red rose.

On the day of your heart surgery, I did something I hadn't done in years. I prayed. I consider myself an agnostic atheist. Too scared to up and say I don't believe yet too responsible for saying everything is up to God. I worked in China at the time and hardly slept that day. I kept waiting for someone to tell me how you were doing. I don't think I slept at all.

But once I saw the Facebook message saying you came through okay, I smiled and said a soft thanks to God and hoped he existed to hear it.

One day, I realized you became my role model.

All your life, I hoped I could make myself the kind of person you'd be proud to call your aunt. I hoped I could always create a safe space for you to be yourself. I hoped I could teach you that no matter what, you're cool how you are, and you shouldn't minimize yourself to please the world.

Weeks after your surgery, you posted a picture of yourself with your scar clearly showing. You proudly proclaimed you no longer planned to cover it but show it off with pride.

That day, I realized you were a role model. If I were the one with the scar, I don't think I'd be brave enough to show it off. I would've covered it to avoid strange looks from other people. You not only showed it off, but you posted it on Facebook. If that's not fearlessness, I don't know what is anymore.

It sounds silly saying a picture shows fearlessness. But a picture that shows a life-saving scar is fearless to me.

I may be almost ten years older, but I'm still learning a lot from you

You're easily one of the strongest people I know. Not everyone can go through open-heart surgery as young as you are and come out with confidence like yours. You're as fearless as you ever were. And the thought of being a stronger person excites you.

I'm honored to be your aunt. Your strength and confidence are an inspiration to me. You'll probably never know it.

I know you'll do bigger and better things as you get older. I can feel it. You went through something as scary as open-heart surgery and came out swinging. Nothing is going to get in the way of your goals, no matter how distracting they look.