Monday, January 9, 2012

In Loving Memory

Today, my Father took his last breath.  Last breath, isn’t that a weird concept?  For me to swallow, digest, and accept this, seems like a foreign concept.  How is it that I will never be able to speak to my Dad again? 

I think about the times ahead that he will not be here for.  My graduation in May, our children being born, car problems that only my Dad knows how to fix, completing my crown molding in our dining room…And then I think of how selfish these thoughts are. 

My Dad was literally THE toughest person on this planet.  He has gone through so much in his 60 years and survived the times when people said he wouldn’t.  He had leukemia twice, quintuple bypass surgery, MDS, and now in September, underwent a bone marrow transplant.  He taught me “mind-over-matter,” and this was something he practiced everyday.

My Dad loved horses.  His basement is surrounded by different horse items.  In fact, the one thing I remember about the farm house I was born in, is a horse picture that says “when the going gets tough, the tough get going.”  And this was how my Dad persevered.

You may think my Dad and I had an unique relationship since we lived almost 1,000 miles away from each other since I was 7.  Well you may be right.  In fact, our relationship was so unique that we were so close with being so far away from each other.

My Dad called me his miracle baby.  I am the youngest of 4 children.  I was actually conceived when my Dad was battling his second round of leukemia; something that is supposed to be nearly impossible.  Therefore, he called me a miracle and said that “I kept him young.”

With all this being said, my Dad was also a good time.  He worked hard and played even harder.  I get my love for adventure and thrill from my Dad.  He took me all over the country to ride roller coasters, made me ride with him on motorcycles, took us camping every summer at Kim’s Camp, and had me get up on the roof with him to shingle a house.

My Dad lived an amazing life.  He got to experience my brothers’ and sister’s children, his grandchildren.  He had the chance to walk both of this daughters down the aisle, start his own business that was always busy with requests, build a house for my sister, brother, and 2 houses for himself, and many more things.

Saying goodbye doesn’t seem possible yet.  However, the good thing about our relationship is we left everything out on the table, per se.  When we talked, we let each know what we were feeling and thinking.  We talked everything out.  Therefore, I don’t feel like I missed saying something to him.  He knows everything that I have ever thought about anything and everything, including how much I love him.

I’ll always be your little girl. 

You will forever be in my heart.  

You will be missed dearly.