I love you dad

It's been a while, hasn't it?

Needless to say my absence this time was for a reason. Sadly, my father lost his battle to cancer in February this year, no more than a week after his 61th birthday. A bitter pill to swallow, and yet, I find myself taking it better than I should be in a sense.

A lot of people in my family are still struggling with the loss. I know I am in my own way, but I haven't gotten to the point of bursting into full tears about it. I cannot explain how I can feel like this, when everyone else doesn't. I worry though, does that make me a cold person? I hope not. I miss my dad greatly, I can still hear his voice in my head when I am about to do something. Still though, I can't explain this feeling.

Perhaps it was because I knew it was coming, I have prepared for it and already started to mourn my father when he was still alive. But, I also saw him when he began to grow weaker and struggled to even drink a small sip of water. It got to that point, he couldn't take it in, and most of the time coughed it back up. What kind of a life would that have been for him?

There were days where I wished he would have passed away, it got to the point that basic things he could do on his own, were no longer possible without help. I know my dad too. He is a strong, powerful and very stubborn man. He had pride in himself and a threshold for pain that none of us knew about.
He was always in pain, but not once did he show it. He would moan a bit in discomfort but make light of it. We knew though he was suffering, he was hurting. My family and I knew that the reason he stayed as long as he did with us was because we weren't ready to let him go just yet. Nor was he.

His health took a turn for the worst on Family day. (Canadian made holiday for those not familiar with it.) A week after his birthday. My mom woke up early that day when he said to her. "I can't breathe very well."

The whole house hold was woken up at three in the morning, probably earlier. We cleared a path, called 911 and got dad ready for the hospital.

We were pet sitting at the time, I took my dog and our neighbour's dog over next door. I merely watched on as my dad was carried into the ambulance...

I would be the last time I would ever see him.

I have lived with a guilt. I never got a chance to say good bye or that I loved him. I hope he knows that I love him with all my heart and every fibre of my being. He taught me so much when he had little. I will never forget his lessons and I can only hope to make him proud.

On a lighter note, my dad developed a sense of humour near the end. My mom followed him to the hospital in the car. When she got to his room, he did a sarcastic sniffling sound. She asked. "What's wrong?"

He pretended to be like a little boy, upset he didn't get his way. "They didn't put the sirens on for me!"

It took my mom back, but it made her smile. "Did you want the sirens on?"

His reply. "Well, it would have been nice!"

My God, Dad. Why did you get a sense of humour near the end of it all?

So with that, my father spent one night in the hospital, he asked time and time again to go home and have an oxygen tank on hand in case he loses his breath. The doctor refused and explained it would take a least a day to get it into the house. When the doctor spoke to my mom outside, he shook his head to her. My dad didn't know just how sick he was.

By 10:30 the next day, he was gone.

Out of left field, my dad passed away when he thought all he needed was a little bit of oxygen. He didn't get the one thing he wanted, and that was to be home when he passed away. But, I think it was better if he wasn't home when that happened.

Since his passing, I've been oddly at peace with it. My father didn't pass away as a man with tubes coming out of him, that would have been the last thing he would ever want to be remembered as. Instead, my dad passed with dignity in a sense. It is the only way I could look at it. It is the only way I can see comfort in it all.

I love you dad.

I miss you every day...