Today is my dad's birthday. I was blessed with such an awesome father. I have so many childhood memories that just make me smile and be so grateful to have such a great dad. He was probably my favorite playmate I ever had. He took me on sled rides, he hung me the most awesome tire swing, he took me on hikes, took me fishing, had snowball fights with me, he was always there for me. In November of 1993, right after I got married, my daddy was diagnosed with cancer. It broke my heart. I had seen so many people in my family suffer with this awful disease. I prayed for my dad every day. I prayed that he would not be taken away from me. The doctor told him that if he was lucky - he would live five years. When I asked him what he wanted for Christmas that year, he told me 5 more Christmases. I told him that I would talk to the man upstairs and see what I could do. My dad never complained. He always had the most positive optimistic attitude. We called him a "chemo junkie" because he would feel better after chemo and when he started feeling bad again, he would ask for chemo. The strange thing was that I would sometimes feel the pains my father felt. I had never had a charlie horse before - but I would wake up in the middle of the night crying in pain with a horrible Charlie horse. I would always look at the clock... and sure enough, the next day I would call my dad and ask how his night was last night. He would always say he was feeling fine - but would finally admit that he had woke up at the exact same time with a Charlie Horse. One day, I all of a sudden felt dizzy and felt as if I was going to pass out. Since I was going through fertility treatments at the time, I thought maybe I was pregnant. But when I talked to my dad that evening, I found out that he had been in the emergency room at the same time - feeling faint and dizzy. Somehow, it made me feel closer to him to suffer some of the same pains that he did. I know that what I felt was only a small percentage of what he felt - but I always knew when he was feeling bad. He finally realized that he could not lie to me and tell me he felt fine if he was not. I continued to pray for my dad every day - I prayed that God would not take my daddy away from me. My dad continued to have his great sense of humor. He took a turn for the worse - the doctors told him that the cancer had gone to his liver. We all know the normal outcome for that. The family was preparing for the worse- but not me. I just had a feeling that the doctors were wrong - he had more than 3-6 months to live. The rest of the family thought I was in denial. But I knew. I felt it in my heart. Maybe I did not want to face the fact that my daddy could leave me - or - maybe I was right. Well, my dad did overcome that cancer. Being the chemo junkie that he is - he won that battle, but still had many more to go. By the summer of 2000 he was getting bad again. I had moved away, but decided to come back for what I knew would be his last days. Chris came back before me and stayed in my parents beach condo. They would come there every week on Fridays and go back on Monday morning. I am so grateful for this time away from Chris, because it gave him the opportunity to REALLY get to know my parents. He came to understand where I get my sense of humor and some of my mannerisms. I had never realized how much I was like my dad until Chris pointed it out. I finally returned in July. In December, we were planning what we all anticipated would be our last Christmas together as a family. My sister had airline tickets to come to Virginia, we had reservations for Christmas dinner at Colonial Williamsburg. Chris had a job interview in Dallas, then they called him asking him to come back again and bring me. I flew to Dallas with him and while on a layover coming home, I called my dad. We had a wonderful, heartfelt conversation. When I hung up the phone, I cried. I somehow knew that it was my last conversation with my dad. When we got back to Virginia, I was sick with the flu and unable to visit my dad. I was trying so hard to get better so that I could spend Christmas with the family. I did not get to talk to my dad on the phone during those few days - he was not feeling up to it. I changed my prayers that month. I stopped asking God not to take my father away. I started asking him to PLEASE not let my daddy suffer. On December 20, 2000 my mother and I talked on the phone. My dad was actually telling her he felt really bad. This was not like my father - he never complained. We talked about whether or not to bring Hospice in. We decided that if we did - he may give up. Later that evening, I got a phone call from my mother. She asked me to meet her at the hospital, the ambulance had just left with my dad. I hung up the phone and dropped to the floor, crying at what I knew would come next. Chris drove me to the hospital where they asked us to wait in the family room. I knew when they asked us to wait there that my fears were a reality. I know that my mom knew too. A young doctor came in to give us the news. There was nothing they could do, my father had passed. I cried so hard that night that I cried one of my contacts out. I hoped that I would wake up and it would all have been a bad dream. Unfortunately, it was very much real. My fathers body was taken to West Virginia, where we buried him just before Christmas. The funeral was different than any I have ever been to. We had lots of music before hand. We had the song "Wind Beneath My Wings" which was the song my dad and I danced to at my wedding reception. We also had my uncle singing "How Great Thou Art". At the graveside, as previously requested by my dad, my Uncle sang Vince Gill's song "Go Rest High on That Mountain". Christmas day, we opened gifts from my father. It was the worst Christmas of my life. Although I was happy to be with family - there was an important part of our family that was missing. We kept our reservations for dinner, when we arrived they seated us at the table. Since we were one person short, they began removing the silverware, glasses and napkins from what would have been my daddy's seat. I felt as if they were tearing my heart out of my chest with their bare hands. I remember when I was in fourth grade, one of my friends' fathers died on Christmas day. I had feared that my dad may die on Christmas day as well - the thought never entered my mind that he could die before Christmas. He was so close to holding on, but he lost his battle. There is not a day that goes by that I do not think of my daddy. I can still not hear the songs "Wind Beneath My Wings" or "Go Rest High on That Mountain" without crying. Sometimes I even cry when I hear "How Great Thou Art". Yes, there is not a day that goes by that I do not think of him. But there is also not a day that goes by that I do not know how truly I was blessed to have him as a father. So - Happy Birthday Daddy - I love you and I miss you everyday.... Until we meet again....
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