Monday, September 25, 2006
I have been missing my Dad a lot lately. He passed away 7 years ago, shortly after my 30th birthday. It wasn't a shock, my Dad had been living with a terminal illness for about 10 years. The 1st couple of years we could almost pretend that he wasn't sick. He still worked, volunteered at the church, was a member of the board-of-trade in our small town. He was tired, breathed heavier, struggled a little more with everyday things. Eventually, his energy waned altogether, and he was home bound. The day that he had to surrender his drivers licence was one of the hardest.
My Dad used to race stock cars. He was a body guard at rock concerts. He played hockey. After my Mum left us, he took over as mom and dad. I remember a mother/daughter tea party with my brownie troupe. We made paper plate hats with tissue paper flowers. My Dad not only came, he also proudly wore the hat.
We didn't always get along. I recently found a letter written during my rebellious teen years, to him, lamenting about the "shit" that I put up with from my Dad.
How he didn't kill me, I'll never know.
I can remember my Dad telling me solemly that 'someday, when you have kids, you will understand.' I do.
He not only loved his kids, he loved his grandkids. My 3 girls were the loves of his life. The day that KC was born, he cried openly, tears running down his cheeks as he held his 1st granchild. I had only seen him cry once before, at the funeral of his mother.
He would drop everything to be with his little girls. He doted on them as much as he could, as much as his terrible illness would allow.
I miss him so much. Even after 7 years, I still find myself reaching for the phone, to tell him a joke, or ask his advice. He was my best friend. Really, he was. I told him everything.
He never got to meet my new Hubby, and I know that he would loved him. He never got to see J take her 1st Communion. He never got to see KK or KC graduate from grade 8. In 3 weeks, KC will be getting her high school diploma, and I know that he would be so proud. I know that KC feels the loss of her Grampie just as much today as she did 7 years ago.
I hated watching my Dad waste away. In the end, eating lunch would tire him out so much that he nearly fell asleep during each meal. He could no longer speak to me on the phone, but instead would listen as I rattled on about my day. I am so happy that my Dad isn't suffering. Nobody deserved the ravaging disease that stole him away from us. I am happy that he can run, race his cars, breathe without an oxygen tube now. I know that he is doing all of these things in Heaven. I believe. I know that someday, I will see him again. I know this the same way that I know my name, or the day that each of my girls were born.
Until then, I guess that I will have to cherish my memories. Here's to you Daddy, until we meet again.