Well friends, there's something I've been meaning to share for a while, but forgive me as it is very difficult subject to talk about.
On February 11th, 2008, my dad lost his battle with cancer. He was only 57.
We didn't know he was even sick not even three months before that.
Somehow, over the years, the cancer managed to spread all over his body, undetected. He started to get sicker, but our Dr. said it was because of his age, and him pushing his body so hard. Wtf? He wasn't THAT old. So they decided to do some tests.
I remember the day he told us the diagnosis. I was still living at home, and it was exactly 3 months before my birthday. I had come home from work, and he was in his bedroom watching TV. One of our favorite pastimes was to watch cartoons (family guy, the simpons, stuff like that) and be silly together. He had told me he heard from the doctor, but when I asked what they said, he told me he wanted to wait til my mom got home. I didn't even think anything of that, because I just assumed it was some long story that he didn't want to tell twice.
My mom came home, and we were in the kitchen. He said he was diagnosed with cancer, and given six months to a year to live. I went into hysterics. I fell to the floor, and just started screaming. Not to mention sobbing like a lunatic. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't even believe it. No one deserves to lose their parent at such a young age. He proceeded to call my brothers and sister, while my mom and I held each other as our world crashed down on us. I later told my dad I wanted to get a matching tattoo with him, and he said we would figure it out.
It wasn't easy. He had to be checked into the hospital one week before Christmas. He never got go home after that. He was either at the hospital, or the rehabilitation center. They had him so drugged up no one could understand him, but me really. I remember one time he told me he saw Jessica Alba dancing topless in my left eye, with tentacles coming out of it. He thought it was funny. Another time my mom called me saying he kept asking for pie. Which I knew he was referring to these horrible Hershey cream pie slices they sell at burger king. He wouldn't really eat anything, but when I told him a brought him a slice, he perked right up. Again, good with the bad. He was doing better around January, he was doing a combo of chemo/radiation. He was actually starting to be himself again. Then he started sliding. Apparently, he was two weeks last for his chemo treatments. I can't even begin to get into this, because I get so upset. The doctor blamed the rehab place, the rehab place said the doctor never told them. I'll always wonder what would have happened had he been able to do his 2nd round of chemo.
The night before he passed, was really good. We were watching NHRA drag racing at the hospital, and we were all happy. Things felt normal. I said goodbye around 11 that night, only to get a call from my mom at 9:30 this next morning, We lost him, she said.
I was surprisingly okay. Obviously it was upsetting, but I needed to get to the hospital. I sent a text to some close friends, as I couldn't handle talking to them just yet. Thank goodness for the advances in technology. My sister drove down, and we spent the day together. We went to our fave mexi restaurant (the three of us used to go there all the time) and then I went and got the tattoo my dad and I were going to get together.
The guy that did it did a really bad job. This is after it's been fixed. I didn't ask for any of that black "shading" but it is wh
at it is. The ankh is the symbol of the motorcycle club my dad was apart of for over 30 years. Them linking at the top meant we would always be together, no matter what happens.
Sorry to be such a debbie downer, but I miss him every single day. He was my best friend. I miss our walks around the pond by our house. I miss going for motorcycle rides. I miss just hanging out at the shop (he owned his own motorcycle repair shop, and also custom built bikes-before that he taught motorcycle safety classes for 10+ years) and shooting the shit. Things like buffalo wings from pizza hut make me want to burst into tears, because that was our thing. He did a great impression of TIMMY! from south park. This is a man who when we found our cereal cupboard was infested with ants, took me out to the backyard so we could set a box of apple jacks on fire.
That was a good day.
But he was MY dad, and I couldn't have asked for a better one.
Until next time,
Sarah
P.S.- Wondered about what I was going to do about my wedding day? In the beginning, I thought I would go solo, but I know I'd be a nervous wreck. My brother-in-law, who has always been in my life, and someone who I love and care for with all my heart, will be walking me down the aisle.
Until 2011,
