May 17, 2012
I just pulled out of the hospital to run home and shower, when my cell phone rang. It was my sister telling me that our dad had just taken his last breath. My dad who was always my best friend, would loved me unconditionally, who took care of both me and my son after my c-section, the man that taught me to love reading as much as air, my partner in the love of a good western, silly jokes and journaling. My dad who answered the phone EVERY TIME I called with “how are you feeling today baby girl” … Gone.
Taken after 3 years of horrible health. In those 3 years he was in a major accident and nearly died, had to have a pace maker put in after a few too many heart attacks, kidneys shut down after dye was used in the heart cath they did, then he got the diagnosis of cancer. We knew there was a chance that he had only a matter of time. But he had beaten so many things, deep down I think we thought he would surely be the one that could beat it. But he didn’t.
My heart still hurts as though it happened just yesterday. The hurt is still so raw for my son that he never wants to talk about him. You see my delivery of my son was a horrible one. One that I would do over a billion times for my son. The anesthesiologist walked out right after he did the epidural…to go get a cup of coffee, downstairs. As soon as the doctor made the first cut I felt it. And then my son’s heartbeat dropped and then disappeared and I told them to save him no matter what it cost me. So the recovery was not nearly as easy as I had hoped.
But my dad took care of him and I. He bonded with my dad before he and I did. Even in deaths door my dad could sense my son coming down the hospital hall toward his room…without ever having heard him. When I was in the hospital when my lung collapsed, my son stayed with them and my dad would get him out of bed, help him get ready for school and fix his breakfast.
My son, husband and I miss him more than ever. My dad took my husband under his wing and was the only dad he ever has had. When my dad passed it hurt him as though he was his real dad. My dad loved him. I remember the first time I took him to meet my parents, my dad’s first question was “do you have a job?” when Rand answered him with a yes and dad then told him he would “allow” him to date me.
I miss his quirky sense of humor, his intelligence, his hugs. They say time will heal the hurt, but it doesn’t. Not in the least. But it gives you the time to go on with life and not be drowned in the grief. But late at night, when the world is quite, when everyone but me is asleep, the pain and heartache rushes in and nearly takes my breath.
Daddy I miss you a little more lately than usual. Our boy is growing up and I wish you could see him. You would be so proud of the young man he is becoming. Thank you for never giving up on me, or allowing me to give up on myself. I love you for loving me and never giving up on me.
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