The 1 year anniversary of my dad dying is quickly approaching. He died on February 4. He fought an awesome fight against cancer. Daddy was diagnosed with colon and liver cancer 11 months earlier and given 3 months to live at that time. I remember crying at the drop of a hat after learning that, way back when. But daddy proved them wrong he lived for 11 months. We were given the gift of time with him; something not too many people get when cancer is the diagnosis.
I can’t help but be thrown back to a year ago. Our house renovation was almost complete. We were living less and less out of our basement and were able to spend more time in our newly renovated 1st floor which was transformed to an “open concept”. When the renovation began, January 2nd, I remember showing dad the pictures of my house with no walls whatsoever. Down to the studs. He was so happy for us, he knew this was something that we had been thinking about doing for years. He never saw the finished project.
I miss my dad terribly. I still cry when I write about him; like now and I can’t believe it will be a year that he’s not with us. I won’t say we lost him, he’s not lost, I know where he is. He’s with our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. We just can’t get to him right now. It’s like he crossed over a literal mystic line and we can’t go there. Not yet. I know he’s in heaven with every other believer in our family. And they’re having a grand time. How could they not be?
It still sucks that my dad isn’t here. It still punches me in the stomach that he’s gone when I think about him. I would have loved to tell him about my co workers and students in my school. He would’ve gotten the biggest kick out of me carrying a walkie talkie radio around when I leave the nursing office. He would have loved hearing about some of the paras and teachers especially the ones that make me laugh. Dad loved to laugh and be sarcastic and joke around and especially tell stories…he’s especially known for his propensity to tell you a story. It could be of when he was younger and drove his dad’s car when he was 15, or worked on the dump trucks for Sonny, or worked as a school bus mechanic. He had an endless supply of stories and he would make sure you laughed with him.
I really miss him.