My Dad.
I miss him a lot. He would have been 61 next month. So young, and so much life a head of him.
On April 17, 2014 was the day that would change everything. I was in the middle of my shift at the Hilton in the laundry room due to a fire at Houlihans. I was working with one other lady, who happened to be a smoker. She decided we were at a good place, so she would step out and smoke. I usually continued to work during her breaks. I didn't want to go outside and I felt better if I kept us caught up. However on this day, I felt the need to check my phone. Something I never do. Once I was at work, I turned my phone on 'Do Not Disturb' and left it alone. I am so thankful I felt the need to check it.
I received several text and voice messages from my dad's cell phone and his wife's cell phone urging me to call. I only had two hours left of work, and debated about waiting until I got off, but curiosity got the better of me. I called. I can't even tell you what all was said other than his wife telling me that the cancer was back, he was forgoing treatment and the doctors didn't give him much time. I was in the hallway between the laundry room and the kitchen and I dropped to the ground. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. How could this be true? He had a bone marrow transplant in October and he was supposed to be in remission. He was supposed to be cancer free.
She asked me if I wanted to talk to him, but I couldn't get much out in between the tears. And neither could he. The only words he could manage where 'love you.' I couldn't say anything back I was in shock. Looking back I have many regrets but that is the biggest one. Not saying it back. His wife came back on the phone and asked if there was a time I would be able to go down to see him because she was worried he wouldn't last long.
I left work, after the phone call, and headed home. And cried. A lot. About an hour later, I sent messages out to a few friends asking for prayer and letting them know what I had just found out.
The next few days were a blur. I didn't have a working car I could drive to Joplin, so I had to make arrangements for a rental car. I was finally able to make arrangements to get one and planned to go down on Monday. Lyn, my dads wife, let me know that I needed to come down that morning because she was going to the funeral home that afternoon to make the arrangements. Even after she told me that, I still thought I was dreaming. It didn't seem real.
Monday morning came quickly, but the drive from Springfield to Joplin felt like an eternity. There was so much complication and baggage that came with going to see my dad. I had to fight every feeling within me to not turn around and drive home. Once I pulled in the drive way, I just sat there. Debating with myself whether I was strong enough to do this. I had no clue what I would say, what he would say, what he would look like, etc. The last time I had seen him was three years ago when he had told me he had cancer the first time. Since then we had not talked on the phone. We had only texted because that was easier, for me. But the texting had stopped in February and now I was realizing why.
As I walked up to the door, I was greeted by their dog. I felt thirteen again like I was coming to stay for the weekend. Lyn met me at the door, along with my aunt Carolyn, my dad's sister, I hadn't seen in at least 10 years. When I entered the house, I immediately began to cry. The strongest man I knew growing up was now lying in a hospital bed in the middle of their living room. He had lost about 150 pounds since I had seen him last. As I stood still crying and unable to move, Lyn told me that he had been unresponsive since early Sunday morning. He was on pain meds and was just sleeping. I couldn't move. I felt numb. I felt like I couldn't do this on my own. And questioning why I didn't ask someone to come with me.
After a couple of minutes, I took a seat. Still crying. Even thinking about those first moments of seeing him, I am crying. About an hour later, my other cousin, Misty and her husband stopped by. It was good to see them. But it felt odd. I was in a room with people I hadn't seen or talked to in years, watching my dad.
That afternoon I came back to Springfield and waited. After seeing him I knew it wouldn't be long. Every text message or call I received I panicked as I looked at my phone, expecting it to be the one. Thursday, April 24, I received the text from Lyn. My dad had passed. I remember reading it over and over. Trying to convince myself it was real. Everything still felt like a dream.
Because most of the arrangements were made prior, the viewing was the next day. Thankfully my dear friend, John, was able to drive me down since I didn't have a car. The drive down was hard. I had no clue what to expect. I wasn't involved in any of the planning or arrangements. By the time we arrived, my stomach was in knots. I wanted to turn around and go home.
When I walked in and saw his body there, he looked... peaceful. I was at ease. Knowing as hard as it was for me here, at least he wasn't in any more pain. After the view, John and I drove to Gringos to have lunch. The food isn't really good, but it was more for sentimental value. My dad and I would go to Gringos a lot growing up. It has always had a special place in my heart. Anytime I go there, I think of him. After lunch, as we drove around the town I grew up in, I remembered all the good times with my dad. Swimming lessons at the city pool. Walking around the many parks. Playing catch after his softball games and/or my t-ball games. Running errands with him every Friday afternoon and begging for him to take me to the bank to get an orange candy cane. Watching cardinals games in our home on the satellite.
They say you don't know what you have until it's gone. It's true. But we are left with memories. While I still remember the bad, I am beginning to remember more of the good in the weeks since he's passed. The good memories that I suppressed because of the baggage of him leaving. But I want to look back and remember more of the good. I had a good father. He had his faults, but we all do. If I have children, I want to tell them the good things, the funny things he did.
Monday, April 28th, was the funeral. The day was filled with bitter sweet moments. I felt alone sitting by myself on the front row, unable to take my eyes off of his body. But before and after the funeral, I met and re-met people from my dads past. People he worked with at La-Z-Boy for 20+ years, people we went to church with when I was younger, and even people I hadn't seen since I was 6. But they came up to me and told me how much my dad meant to them. And that my dad would always talk about me and how proud he was of me. That meant the world to me, and they probably don't even realize it.
I miss my dad. I am not only working through the grief of him passing but also the hope of a future with him and the reconciliation. But I am also a work in progress. There are hard days and there are easier days.
I love him dearly.
One of the only pictures I have of my dad and I. I'm not sure where all the pictures went, but I am thankful for this one. I was about 5 years old in one of my favorite dresses (because it was blue).
My dad's pride and joy. His '86 Gibson. He loved his guitar. I have so many memories from childhood of him playing in church or at home. He was an amazing guitarist. I loved hearing him play. He wanted me to have his guitar and his amp. I am honored to have it in my living room. The first night I had it, I plugged it in and strummed it. I don't know how to play, but it made him feel like he was there with me. Since then, I look at it and cry and/or smile, because he's with me.
This is me and my cousin, Misty, at my dad's funeral. We haven't seen each other in over 10 years. As children we were together so much at our grandmas house. But after my parents divorce, we grew a part. It was great to reconnect and make plans for the future.
