As I'm leaving for Norway tomorrow, and I will be there until Sunday, I feel compelled to write something that I have been giving a great deal of consideration for a long time now.
Dear Daddy,
On Saturday, November 21st, 2009 at 5:05 pm (Eastern Standard Time) it will be twelve years since you lost your battle with cancer. It will be twelve years since my big, strong, courageous Daddy gave up his last breath. Sometimes it feel like you took me with you when you went. Sometimes it feel like I can't even go on another minute for the sadness of the whole thing. And then I remember how badly you wanted to live, how desperately you loved life, and clung to it with every fiber of your being.
Life was a gift for you. You never took it for granted, even before you were diagnosed with cancer. I remember when you scooped the little baby cardinal out of the pool one summer and cradled it and quickly fashioned a make-shift nest to stow in the pine trees so that its mom would her it calling to her and she would come rescue it. You had such respect for life, and such an understanding of nature. I miss playing basketball with you, when you would lift me up so high so that I could make a dunk. I remember the time you let me ride my bike by myself on the sidewalk around the neighbourhood for the first time, but you had to drive alongside me the whole way. Some woman pulled over and asked me if you were bothering me and I casually replied "no, that's just my dad."
I loved everything about you, your thinning grey hair, your blue-yellow eyes, your bright smile. You were all legs, just about the tallest man I've ever met in my life. It doesn't seem fair that cancer could come and steal such a healthy and wonderful person.
I was in the flower garden on the side of the house when you told me you were sick. The tulips had just come in and the air was fresh and rich with spring. We had just moved to the new house, it didn't seem fair that you should get sick.
I remember being in the kitchen, many months later, when mom told me you were dying. No one ever candy-coated the issue for me, no one ever treated me like a child. I would go up to your bedroom every day after school and lay with you and Candy, reading or watching videos or just talking. I was so scared to let you out of my sight.
When you went to the palliative care unit at Hartford Hospital, we all knew you were very near the end. Ducky and Candy took it the hardest, they loved you so much. Ducky died within a week of you, she couldn't bear to live in a world without you. I know Ducky is curled up on your shoulder, I bet you can hardly get the darn cat off of you. It took Candy eight years to follow you home, but I know she's sprawled out across your lap right now, like any giant overfed black lab.
It's a lot easier to pretend like it doesn't hurt that you died, as I imagine it's easier to pretend that a lot of things in life don't hurt. But it does hurt that you died. It hurts every single day of my life. It hurts every single day of mom's life. It hurts every single day of Becky's life. We miss you so much.
Twelve years is too long for a daddy to be away from the people who love him. But I know that someday, when it's our time, we'll all be together again, and there won't be pain or fear. There will just be boundless love and happiness.
I'm blessed to have had a father who loved me more than the sun the moon and the stars. I'm extremely blessed to have had two parents who loved each other more than oxygen, and loved their child with every fiber of their beings. I'm equally blessed to rest easy knowing that my mother and father will love each other into eternity, and my parents loved me and wanted me. I only wish that my daddy could have been there to see me walk across the stage at graduation. I wish you could have been there to give me flowers when I performed in orchestra concerts and competitions. I wish you had been there to carry me home when I broke my arm (roller-blading on the ice) when I was ten. I wish you had been there on my sixteenth birthday to hand me the card you had made and the beautiful pearl necklace you made sure to get for me before you passed away. More than anything I wish you were there when your three beautiful grandchildren came into this world. I wish you could carry them on your shoulders, cradle them gently in your strong arms, walk with them wrapped around your legs.
Life would be so different if you were alive today daddy, who knows if it would be different for the best or for the worst. I often say "I would not give just anything to see my daddy again," but the older I get, the more I believe that to be a lie. I would give anything to see you again, to smell you, to hug you, to hold your hand.
My last memory of you alive is curling up alongside you in your hospital bed, two nights before you died. We both fell asleep alongside each other, you with your arm as my pillow and me with my arm wrapped around your stomach. I have the best memories of you. Thanks for being the reason I can honestly say that I had the greatest dad ever.
Love you forever,
Rachel
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