For the longest time I felt very alone in my feelings of loss. I felt like no one really understood what it was like to experience the type of loss I have endured. Sure my sister and brother also lost their Father, but since we are not close, it is not like we talk about our feelings. My Mother is so broken, even after all this time, I prefer not to speak about the pain I carry around. Sure I lost my Dad, but my Mom, lost her life partner of 30 years, the Father of her children and her best friend. She has enough pain to carry around, she doesn't need to carry mine too.
It has almost been a decade since my Father passed away. I rarely speak from the heart about how my Father's death affected our family, but when I do I say something like, "you know when someone loses a family member, and the family sticks together and becomes really strong? We are not that family." My family fell apart, because we lost the glue. Not just with my immediate family, but I have also lost the connection with my Father's side of the family. I am not blaming them, as I am as much to blame. It's just different, because my Dad is suppose to be here. He is the connective tissue and without him, it is almost too much to bear. Too much to hear my Zia talk about him or talk about the trials and tribulations of his side of the family.
So for ten years, I have carried around this feeling of loss, of abandonment, and this saddened truth that we are the family that felt apart. No one really understands this feeling, so when this whole topic that rarely comes up in a conversation, is uncomfortably talked about, people want to change the subject, or tell me something like, "it will get better", or "I am so sorry" or "I don't know what that feels like" or "I can't imagine what that feels like". Everyone I know, is either the family that never experienced this greatest loss or the family that sucked together.
Until recently....
Recently, I met someone who gets it.
They too lost their Father and their families connective tissue. They too know what it is like to experience the pain and the sadness of not only losing their Father, but their family as they knew it.
I find it comforting.
For the first time in ten years, I feel free. Free from being isolated by my feelings.
I am not happy that someone else has to experience this pain, but I am happy to know I am not alone with my thoughts and feelings.
The world got a little brighter for me these last few weeks and for that I am grateful.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Sunday, June 17, 2012
A Father to Remember
Today is a celebration to honour Fathers and Fatherhood in society and in our lives. I agree that the definition of Father has changed and does not always mean the actual blood relative of a child, the one who is partly responsible for conception of the child. Unfortunately, there are a lot of "Fathers" out there that do not deserve being honoured, and I can't even begin to understand how a person could abandon their own child, or not want to be an active, loving part of their child's life. It is very hard for me to understand for two reasons; one, because I am a Mother and know what an incredible gift it is to have a child and two, because of my own experience with my Father.
One thing that I knew every second of every day was how much my Father loved me. It didn't matter if he was angry with me or not, what age I was, what my grades in school were, my Dad loved me unconditionally all the time. I was far from a perfect child. I was a very troubled teenager and I know I must have been a very difficult child to raise, but my parents never gave up on me and my Dad always made me feel loved. I gave him tons of reasons to be angry with me, I ignored curfew, cut class, took the car without asking, snuck out of the house, oh the trouble I use to get in.....
No matter how upset my Father was about my latest "stunt" what I always knew was at the root of it all, he loved me and he worried about my safety, my happiness and my future. I started to realize that if he didn't get upset with my behaviour that would mean he didn't care.
My teenage years were a nightmare, for me, for my parents and for my family. It was not until I was twenty that I really understood, just how much my parents loved me and just how much stress I caused them for the last five years. It was time to apologize, and I did. I am glad I did because it only made our relationship stronger.
As I sit here I remember all the things my Dad did that make me remember just how great of a Dad he was. My second year of school in Toronto, I became really sick and I remember being locked away in my room and my Father had called for me and one of my room mates told him that I had been sick and I had been in bed for over two days and were worried about me. My Father dropped everything he was doing, drove to Toronto, came to my apartment, got me from my bed, carried me down the ever-lasting flight of stairs, put me in his car and drove me back to Niagara Falls. My Mom and Dad took care of me for the week and nursed me back to health.
Another stellar Dad incident I remember was just after 9/11, I was going to Ireland to see my best friend and her new nine day old baby. I had arrived at the airport three hours in advance and when I was checking in at the ticket counter I find out my passport had expired. I called my Father in tears and he said, "What about your Italian passport?" I had not even thought about that, but it was in Niagara Falls and I was at Pearsons Airport in Toronto. My Father checked my Italian passport to be sure it was valid, and without me asking he said he would drive up to the Toronto airport as fast as he could so I could make my flight. I remember standing outside the airport near passenger drop off and he literally opened the window handed me my passport, gave me a kiss, and off he went back to Niagara Falls and I made my flight to Ireland with just minutes to spare.
When my Father was diagnosed with cancer in 2003, it was the biggest shock of my life. My Father was a strong, healthy man. At his last physical the Doctor's said, "You are as fit as a horse." Those ten months were the most trying times of my life. Being hopefully and praying for the best, while you prepare mentally for the worst. My Dad was optimistic for the most part, until the cancer took over. It is hard watching someone so strong being eat up by this terrible disease. The chemo didn't work so well and before our eyes we watched my Dad die.
I remember the day that I got a call from my sister saying my Father's hemoglobin count was 2. Normal is about 120. I made my way to the hospital to be with my Father, when I entered his room, there he was, the remaining 75 pounds of him. He lost over 100 pounds in the last year. His eyes lite up when he saw me and he said, "My beautiful Caterina, I am so much better now that you are here." I curled up beside his skeleton of a body, and just laid there in silence. I thought of every moment in the last 27 years, how this man loved me unconditionally, taught me life's greatest lessons, guided me when I needed it, carried me when I needed it, and "slapped" some sense into me when I needed it most.
There was ongoing friction between my Father and I, something we just couldn't see eye-to-eye about. It was because I spent the last seven years, exploring, adventuring and travelling the world while he encouraged and pleaded me to "settle down", get married, have children and commit to a career. While sitting with my Father on his hospital bed, he turned to me an said, "You are smarter than me. You had it right all these years and I was wrong." I wasn't sure what he was talking about but he continued. "All these years, I have been telling you to settle down, to get married to start a family and you have always said, I am not ready for that. I am enjoying my life, travelling the world. exploring new places and when I am ready to settle I will but not yet." He continued, "Look, look at me. I am going to die without seeing the things I wanted to see, without making my dream trip to Hawaii, because every year I put it off for next year, and now, I don't have a next year." I felt incredibly sad for my Dad at that moment. He was a loving Father, the sole provider for the family, worked extremely hard for his entire life but never had the chance to do the things he dreamed of. He then said, "You had it right, and I had it wrong and I am so proud of you for not listening to me and so proud of you for living your life and dreams, keep doing that."
Those words from my Father, are with me everyday. It is a way I can continue to honour him in my everyday life and I am so grateful that he shared those words with me.
It was a hard week, to sit there and watch this man, my Father, that I loved so much, slip away. I remember my Father looking up and seeing me cry, he said, "Caterina, my beautiful daughter, don't cry, why are you crying?" And I said, "Oh Daddy, I am not ready to be without you, I don't want you to die." And he said, " Caterina, you will always be with me, and I will always be with you. We share the same smile, the same eyes, the same heart. Smile everyday and I will be smiling with you, through your eyes I will see the world."
What an amazing gift my Dad gave me in the last week of his life. He gave me wisdom, praise, encouragement, strength, support and love that will stay with me forever. I cherish every moment we shared that week and in our life together. I am grateful that I am not left with wishing I had the chance to say what I needed and wanted to. I had the chance to tell my Dad how much I loved him, how much I respected and admired him and I was able to say thank you and in that there is peace.
Per sempre con amore Papa. Happy Father's Day.
One thing that I knew every second of every day was how much my Father loved me. It didn't matter if he was angry with me or not, what age I was, what my grades in school were, my Dad loved me unconditionally all the time. I was far from a perfect child. I was a very troubled teenager and I know I must have been a very difficult child to raise, but my parents never gave up on me and my Dad always made me feel loved. I gave him tons of reasons to be angry with me, I ignored curfew, cut class, took the car without asking, snuck out of the house, oh the trouble I use to get in.....
No matter how upset my Father was about my latest "stunt" what I always knew was at the root of it all, he loved me and he worried about my safety, my happiness and my future. I started to realize that if he didn't get upset with my behaviour that would mean he didn't care.
My teenage years were a nightmare, for me, for my parents and for my family. It was not until I was twenty that I really understood, just how much my parents loved me and just how much stress I caused them for the last five years. It was time to apologize, and I did. I am glad I did because it only made our relationship stronger.
As I sit here I remember all the things my Dad did that make me remember just how great of a Dad he was. My second year of school in Toronto, I became really sick and I remember being locked away in my room and my Father had called for me and one of my room mates told him that I had been sick and I had been in bed for over two days and were worried about me. My Father dropped everything he was doing, drove to Toronto, came to my apartment, got me from my bed, carried me down the ever-lasting flight of stairs, put me in his car and drove me back to Niagara Falls. My Mom and Dad took care of me for the week and nursed me back to health.
Another stellar Dad incident I remember was just after 9/11, I was going to Ireland to see my best friend and her new nine day old baby. I had arrived at the airport three hours in advance and when I was checking in at the ticket counter I find out my passport had expired. I called my Father in tears and he said, "What about your Italian passport?" I had not even thought about that, but it was in Niagara Falls and I was at Pearsons Airport in Toronto. My Father checked my Italian passport to be sure it was valid, and without me asking he said he would drive up to the Toronto airport as fast as he could so I could make my flight. I remember standing outside the airport near passenger drop off and he literally opened the window handed me my passport, gave me a kiss, and off he went back to Niagara Falls and I made my flight to Ireland with just minutes to spare.
When my Father was diagnosed with cancer in 2003, it was the biggest shock of my life. My Father was a strong, healthy man. At his last physical the Doctor's said, "You are as fit as a horse." Those ten months were the most trying times of my life. Being hopefully and praying for the best, while you prepare mentally for the worst. My Dad was optimistic for the most part, until the cancer took over. It is hard watching someone so strong being eat up by this terrible disease. The chemo didn't work so well and before our eyes we watched my Dad die.
I remember the day that I got a call from my sister saying my Father's hemoglobin count was 2. Normal is about 120. I made my way to the hospital to be with my Father, when I entered his room, there he was, the remaining 75 pounds of him. He lost over 100 pounds in the last year. His eyes lite up when he saw me and he said, "My beautiful Caterina, I am so much better now that you are here." I curled up beside his skeleton of a body, and just laid there in silence. I thought of every moment in the last 27 years, how this man loved me unconditionally, taught me life's greatest lessons, guided me when I needed it, carried me when I needed it, and "slapped" some sense into me when I needed it most.
There was ongoing friction between my Father and I, something we just couldn't see eye-to-eye about. It was because I spent the last seven years, exploring, adventuring and travelling the world while he encouraged and pleaded me to "settle down", get married, have children and commit to a career. While sitting with my Father on his hospital bed, he turned to me an said, "You are smarter than me. You had it right all these years and I was wrong." I wasn't sure what he was talking about but he continued. "All these years, I have been telling you to settle down, to get married to start a family and you have always said, I am not ready for that. I am enjoying my life, travelling the world. exploring new places and when I am ready to settle I will but not yet." He continued, "Look, look at me. I am going to die without seeing the things I wanted to see, without making my dream trip to Hawaii, because every year I put it off for next year, and now, I don't have a next year." I felt incredibly sad for my Dad at that moment. He was a loving Father, the sole provider for the family, worked extremely hard for his entire life but never had the chance to do the things he dreamed of. He then said, "You had it right, and I had it wrong and I am so proud of you for not listening to me and so proud of you for living your life and dreams, keep doing that."
Those words from my Father, are with me everyday. It is a way I can continue to honour him in my everyday life and I am so grateful that he shared those words with me.
It was a hard week, to sit there and watch this man, my Father, that I loved so much, slip away. I remember my Father looking up and seeing me cry, he said, "Caterina, my beautiful daughter, don't cry, why are you crying?" And I said, "Oh Daddy, I am not ready to be without you, I don't want you to die." And he said, " Caterina, you will always be with me, and I will always be with you. We share the same smile, the same eyes, the same heart. Smile everyday and I will be smiling with you, through your eyes I will see the world."
What an amazing gift my Dad gave me in the last week of his life. He gave me wisdom, praise, encouragement, strength, support and love that will stay with me forever. I cherish every moment we shared that week and in our life together. I am grateful that I am not left with wishing I had the chance to say what I needed and wanted to. I had the chance to tell my Dad how much I loved him, how much I respected and admired him and I was able to say thank you and in that there is peace.
Per sempre con amore Papa. Happy Father's Day.
Friday, March 16, 2012
The Power of Memories
I sit here and feel grateful that I have amazing memories of my Father. Of times we laughed together, fun times we shared, advice he gave me and the things he taught me while he was part of my life here on earth.
I am blessed, truly blessed to come to a place in my heart and soul knowing that my Father is still part of my life even though I am not physically able to spend time with him. It has been a long journey to be able to say that I am content. After eight years, I have learned how to cope with the pain of losing my Father, the pain and suffering it brought my family and myself, and turn to a place of gratitude.
My Father was my best friend. We were cut from the same cloth, the same internal fire, the same smile, the same strengths and weaknesses. So being without him, in my day to day life was really really hard. I remember for about the first year, I still expected to hear his voice and I was still waiting for him to call me on the phone.
Once that passed, I remember going into the next stage which was anger. Why my Dad? Why did he have to die? Why did cancer take his life and spare others? It wasn't fair and I lived in that dark place for a long time. That time was heart-wrenching.
I spent many years in a place of emotional limbo. Happy and sad. It is like moving through life, through all these wonderful milestones, longing to share those moments with my Dad.
Over the last year and a half, I feel like I have finally became calm in my being. I miss my Dad so incredibly much and that will always be the case. I have learned how to live with the sadness, to not excuse it, not ignore it but not let it cripple me either.
I have also learned that I am so blessed to have had such an incredible relationship with my Father. He was a great man, that filled my life and heart with love. He raised me to be the woman I am and all of my "Dad" memories, I carry around with me everyday. They are mine, and no one can take them from me.
The power of memories have allowed me to stay connected to my Father, and I still have a relationship with him. I still talk to him and ask for his guidance. When I am in a challenging situation, or I have to make an important decision, I can close my eyes and for a moment sit with my memories of my Dad and ask him to guide me to my answer or decision. By doing so today, I still have my Dad's direction and guidance.
The connection I had with my Father did not die. It lives within me, in my soul, in my heart, in my memories and that brings me the greatest comfort.
It is the power of memories that gives me the strength to continue my journey, he may not hold my hand anymore, but he holds my heart and soul.
I am blessed, truly blessed to come to a place in my heart and soul knowing that my Father is still part of my life even though I am not physically able to spend time with him. It has been a long journey to be able to say that I am content. After eight years, I have learned how to cope with the pain of losing my Father, the pain and suffering it brought my family and myself, and turn to a place of gratitude.
My Father was my best friend. We were cut from the same cloth, the same internal fire, the same smile, the same strengths and weaknesses. So being without him, in my day to day life was really really hard. I remember for about the first year, I still expected to hear his voice and I was still waiting for him to call me on the phone.
Once that passed, I remember going into the next stage which was anger. Why my Dad? Why did he have to die? Why did cancer take his life and spare others? It wasn't fair and I lived in that dark place for a long time. That time was heart-wrenching.
I spent many years in a place of emotional limbo. Happy and sad. It is like moving through life, through all these wonderful milestones, longing to share those moments with my Dad.
Over the last year and a half, I feel like I have finally became calm in my being. I miss my Dad so incredibly much and that will always be the case. I have learned how to live with the sadness, to not excuse it, not ignore it but not let it cripple me either.
I have also learned that I am so blessed to have had such an incredible relationship with my Father. He was a great man, that filled my life and heart with love. He raised me to be the woman I am and all of my "Dad" memories, I carry around with me everyday. They are mine, and no one can take them from me.
The power of memories have allowed me to stay connected to my Father, and I still have a relationship with him. I still talk to him and ask for his guidance. When I am in a challenging situation, or I have to make an important decision, I can close my eyes and for a moment sit with my memories of my Dad and ask him to guide me to my answer or decision. By doing so today, I still have my Dad's direction and guidance.
The connection I had with my Father did not die. It lives within me, in my soul, in my heart, in my memories and that brings me the greatest comfort.
It is the power of memories that gives me the strength to continue my journey, he may not hold my hand anymore, but he holds my heart and soul.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Strength, Love and Wisdom
It has been over seven years since my Father passed away. The last seven years have been full of tears and heart break because of losing my Dad. When I started writing this blog it was a way to cope with all of the feelings I had. The sense of loss, anger, fear and sadness. Sometimes I felt crippled by my emotions. I felt that maybe by writing my feelings down I would finally find peace. It was worth a shot. The other day, I was walking down the street and I realized something. I have cried a lot less this year. I have found strength in the love and wisdom of my Father. I know it my heart that he is and would have been very proud of me. I am able to make decisions based on the guidance, love and support he gave me for 27 years of my life. I realized somewhere along the way that I am grateful for having an amazing Father. I am fortunate that I had his guidance, direction and influence. I believe that this is the end of my seven year cycle. I spent seven years mourning the loss that I had, I am not sure if that is normal or not, but I am happy to be where I am now. To be able to appreciate what I had and have, instead of being sad about what I don't have. I am stronger and wiser because of the last seven years and I am excited to continue moving forward, channeling my energy into positive things for myself and for my family.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Wait it out
Imogean Heap - Wait it out
I listen to the song 'Wait it out' by Imogean Heap and literally am lost in the words. She is not only my favourite artist, but the words in her song describe the emptiness that I deal with everyday.
'Where do we go from here? - How do we carry on I can't get beyond the questions'
'It cuts me with every could have been' - Tears, rolls down my face. I am left with a hole in my heart, I am left with sadness.
'Pain on pain on play repeating....with a back up make shift life in waiting'. That is the life I dream of. The dream of my Dad being alive. For my Dad to meet my son, to know my husband, to give me advice and direction. To hug me, to laugh with me, to hold my hand as I walk through life. To support me and to unconditionally love me forever!
'Everybody says that time heals everything, but what of the wretched hollow, the endless in between, Are we just going to wait it out?
I just have to wait it out. Hoping that as her lyrics say, time will heal everything. Truth is, I am not sure if that is even possible.
I listen to the song 'Wait it out' by Imogean Heap and literally am lost in the words. She is not only my favourite artist, but the words in her song describe the emptiness that I deal with everyday.
'Where do we go from here? - How do we carry on I can't get beyond the questions'
'It cuts me with every could have been' - Tears, rolls down my face. I am left with a hole in my heart, I am left with sadness.
'Pain on pain on play repeating....with a back up make shift life in waiting'. That is the life I dream of. The dream of my Dad being alive. For my Dad to meet my son, to know my husband, to give me advice and direction. To hug me, to laugh with me, to hold my hand as I walk through life. To support me and to unconditionally love me forever!
'Everybody says that time heals everything, but what of the wretched hollow, the endless in between, Are we just going to wait it out?
I just have to wait it out. Hoping that as her lyrics say, time will heal everything. Truth is, I am not sure if that is even possible.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
The Shift
The end of summer beginning of Fall is when "The Shift" begins. It took me a few years to really understand the very weight of "The Shift" and how it is embedded in my soul. Even though I experience this every year, it still creeps up on me. I find myself doing ordinary things and my eyes fill with tears, I have less patience and my mind is not as clear. I am lost in the memories of summers past, where I spent the last days of summer with my family camping on a Lake near North Bay. That was the last time I saw my Father live the quality of life that was a total representation of his character; young, vibrant, adventurous and infectious. My Father and I spent time fishing and water skiing. My sister was 7 months pregnant, so she spent most of time sleeping and my Mom was doing what she normally did, tending to her loved ones, cooking the fish and making sure everyone else had a good time. My Dad had been fighting cancer for seven months so far and looked like he was beating it. Why wouldn't he? Dad was stronger than anyone I knew and would put younger men to shame. My Dad was the type, who never really wanted to grow up, he had a youthfulness about him his whole life. If anyone was going to beat cancer, he would. But he didn't.
"The Shift" for me, is the time between hope and the inevitable. "The Shift" is watching my Dad go from beating it, to losing the battle. "The Shift" are the emotions of that time, that no matter how many years passed, have left an imprint in my heart and mind.
I try to stay positive, I try and remember all the happy times we shared, I try and not feel sorry for myself. I try not to be bitter, I try not to be resentful and I try to understand. It is almost like, during "The Shift" I am not as strong, not as equipped to cope and not as "whole". I feel like I carry not just my grief around, but that of my Moms and that of our family, who in many ways fell apart when my Father died. I can't not help but get carried away in wishes and dreams of what life would be like if my Dad was still here today. I find peace in two things, one that my Dad is no longer suffering and the other is in this prayer:
"The Shift" for me, is the time between hope and the inevitable. "The Shift" is watching my Dad go from beating it, to losing the battle. "The Shift" are the emotions of that time, that no matter how many years passed, have left an imprint in my heart and mind.
I try to stay positive, I try and remember all the happy times we shared, I try and not feel sorry for myself. I try not to be bitter, I try not to be resentful and I try to understand. It is almost like, during "The Shift" I am not as strong, not as equipped to cope and not as "whole". I feel like I carry not just my grief around, but that of my Moms and that of our family, who in many ways fell apart when my Father died. I can't not help but get carried away in wishes and dreams of what life would be like if my Dad was still here today. I find peace in two things, one that my Dad is no longer suffering and the other is in this prayer:
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Monday, August 2, 2010
"I hope you die"
These four words are a constant echo in my head. They are four words that I question, even today. They were spoken out of love. I said them because as much as I didn't want that to happen with everything in me, I realized that in death was freedom.
It was Saturday December 13th, 7:30am in the morning, and I was driving myself from Toronto to Port Credit to teach my Pilates classses. I pulled into the studio parking lot, turned off the car, took a deep breathe and said those four words out loud, "I hope you die." Then I cried. I cried because I vocalized my feelings, because I wasn't sure if those words meant I was giving up, being selfish or selfless. After a good cry I went and taught my classes but I did not turn off my cell phone, which I normally do. Two hours into the class I received a call from an unknown number. I answered it instead of ignoring it, another practice that is not normal for me. It was a family friend telling me that I need to get to the hospital where my Father was, that my Mom needed me. I had spent the last week with my Father at the hospital, the only reason I wasn't there was because he told me to go home and get back to my life, that he would be okay.
My Dad died 8 hours later.
The last thing I wanted was for my Dad to die. I wanted him to be happy and healthy and to be very much alive. I could not imagine my life without my Father. He was my rock, he was my best friend and my world was a much safer place with him part of it, I wanted him to be there every step of the way. I wanted him to meet the person I would marry and I wanted him to walk me down the aisle one day. I wanted him to be there when my child was born. I wanted him to be there when I had questions about life. I wanted him to be the glue to our family, like he always was. But as much as I wanted all of those things what I didn't want was for him to suffer or for him to be in pain. I was not sure how much more he could endure, and I was not sure how much my Mom could either.
The reality was that my Father had cancer, and he got a blood infection during his chemotherapy. His white blood cell count was .7, a normal WBC is in the range of 4.3-10.8. My Dad was weak and tired. The Doctors were talking about taping his eyes shot to conserve all his energy. He was less than 70lbs, instead of his robust 170. He would be too weak to have chemotherapy for a very long time, if ever. During that time the cancer would spread and he would be subjected to more pain and suffering. The reality was eventually my Dad would die, if not now then in a week, month or year from now.
It became clear that my biggest fear, a life without my Dad, was where my Father's peace lied. No more pain and no more suffering. So as hard as it was, it was time to let go. It was time for my Dad to die.
Even though I know all of this, as I have had plenty of time to reflect, and trust me, I reflect all too often, I still feel haunted that I said those words that day. My reality is those words and that day will always be the day my world was shattered.
It was Saturday December 13th, 7:30am in the morning, and I was driving myself from Toronto to Port Credit to teach my Pilates classses. I pulled into the studio parking lot, turned off the car, took a deep breathe and said those four words out loud, "I hope you die." Then I cried. I cried because I vocalized my feelings, because I wasn't sure if those words meant I was giving up, being selfish or selfless. After a good cry I went and taught my classes but I did not turn off my cell phone, which I normally do. Two hours into the class I received a call from an unknown number. I answered it instead of ignoring it, another practice that is not normal for me. It was a family friend telling me that I need to get to the hospital where my Father was, that my Mom needed me. I had spent the last week with my Father at the hospital, the only reason I wasn't there was because he told me to go home and get back to my life, that he would be okay.
My Dad died 8 hours later.
The last thing I wanted was for my Dad to die. I wanted him to be happy and healthy and to be very much alive. I could not imagine my life without my Father. He was my rock, he was my best friend and my world was a much safer place with him part of it, I wanted him to be there every step of the way. I wanted him to meet the person I would marry and I wanted him to walk me down the aisle one day. I wanted him to be there when my child was born. I wanted him to be there when I had questions about life. I wanted him to be the glue to our family, like he always was. But as much as I wanted all of those things what I didn't want was for him to suffer or for him to be in pain. I was not sure how much more he could endure, and I was not sure how much my Mom could either.
The reality was that my Father had cancer, and he got a blood infection during his chemotherapy. His white blood cell count was .7, a normal WBC is in the range of 4.3-10.8. My Dad was weak and tired. The Doctors were talking about taping his eyes shot to conserve all his energy. He was less than 70lbs, instead of his robust 170. He would be too weak to have chemotherapy for a very long time, if ever. During that time the cancer would spread and he would be subjected to more pain and suffering. The reality was eventually my Dad would die, if not now then in a week, month or year from now.
It became clear that my biggest fear, a life without my Dad, was where my Father's peace lied. No more pain and no more suffering. So as hard as it was, it was time to let go. It was time for my Dad to die.
Even though I know all of this, as I have had plenty of time to reflect, and trust me, I reflect all too often, I still feel haunted that I said those words that day. My reality is those words and that day will always be the day my world was shattered.
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