The Hurt That Never Heals

May 17, 2012

Such a beautiful day outside. But we didn’t care. We sat in the hospital,  the waiting room filled to capacity, waiting. The sun shine seemed to be a huge kick in the heart, as I sat and watched my dad struggle to breathe and being unable to help because my mom and brother signed a DNR. (his wishes)


My dad had been to all out war against cancer, major heart issues and diabetes. The diabetes made doing “normal” chemo impossible. And because of this he had to take the pill version. On that year before he passed he had been through Hell. We almost lost him twice already but he pulled through as he always did. As much as we hoped and prayed that he would make it through this,  the doctors assaulted our hearts with their diagnosis. He was dying and there was nothing they could do.


I can not lie, I was pissed. How dare God not heal him! Our family had been through so much those few years, why take him away from us!?! My heart and soul hurt more than I ever knew possible!


(family vacation 1978, Savannah Ga)

You see, I was a daddy’s girl. He was and will always be my hero. He didn’t have to do anything heroic, just be my dad. When I was 3 I was in the hospital and the doctors gave me up. There was nothing they could do at all. My dad walked outside (he was a majorly heavy smoker), looked up and told God if he would heal me he would stop smoking and even become a Christian. He would have done anything to have me survive, his baby girl. His shadow. And he never smoked a single time after that.


My dad was amazing. He loved reading and passed that love onto me. He was onto western shows and watched them every weekend. I sat on the arm of his chair, my hand on his ear the whole time. He called me pumpkin and baby girl. He loved and accepted me for who I was, didn’t try to make me be something I wasn’t.


(dad at a family cook out with the grand babies)
My dad loved the grand babies so much! My son bond with him before he bonded with even me. My dad was an awesome person. Had such witty and silly conversations with us and our children.


(dad loving on the grand babies)

I miss him. My heart still weeps daily for him. When I call their house I still have that little hope that he will answer the phone with his “hey baby girl, you alright today? How’s my boy?” and then someone else answers and it is a knife to the heart.


(dad wrestling with the four oldest grand children)

Some one once said the grief of loss will get better. That someone was full of crap. The pain of losing him never gets easier, we just learn to work through the hurt. He would want that from us. He was a proud, funny, smart, loving dad and we were so blessed to have him.


(Savannah, Ga 1970s)

Next month will be three years that he has been gone. It still feels like yesterday. A few times I have dreamed of him and they are so vivid that when I wake up it is like losing him again.


Am I still angry? That is a question I can still honestly say…. Yes I freaking am! I am mad at the beast that is cancer! I am mad that the doctors couldn’t help him more! I am mad that he didn’t get to be here to see a few of his great grandchildren be brought into this world! I am mad that every time we talk about him my son leaves the room because he is so heart broken still for losing His best friend.


Mostly I am angry that it still hurts so much. He wasn’t a perfect man, but to me he was the perfect dad. And I miss him!


                (my wedding)


2 thoughts on “The Hurt That Never Heals

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