I was scrolling through Pinterest the other day and saw this. I can honestly say I don’t think I’ve ever read anything more true. April made 8 years since I lost my dad, and it still feels like it happened yesterday. It just seems unbelievable that he’s gone. Any day I expect to wake up from this crazy dream and find him sitting on his little stool in his shop piddling with a lawn mower. But no…..that’s not going to happen. I just have to learn how to accept this.
My dad was my person. He just got me. Never once in 28 years did I have to explain myself to him. It was like he had some sort of telepathic ability to see what was going on in my head. And he just accepted it. He accepted me. The good, the bad, and the slightly psychotic. No matter how many times I dropped the ball in my younger years, he just knew that I was going to turn out okay. He had an amazing amount of faith in me.
When he was diagnosed with Renal Cell Carcinoma, we knew there was no cure. He was Stage 4, so the treatments were to prolong his life, not to cure him. The treatments didn’t really work and it all went downhill quickly. I remember the day my mom called me at work and let me know she had called an ambulance because he was breathing but unresponsive. He was transported to the ER, admitted to the hospital, then transferred to a rehab facility, but he never came home again. For months I would visit him each day on my lunch break and watch him slip away. It was the most agonizing time of my life.
As days passed, I watched him loose the ability to do things for himself. I was so angry that such a strong and wonderful man, had to ask for help to go to the bathroom or even switch positions in the bed. Towards the end, the sickness and the dependency on others got to him as well. The man that had always been patient and kind, became short with his answers and silent most of the time. It was as if the joy and laughter were sucked right out of our lives.
On April 14, 2011, he was at the hospital after having a feeding tube put in. I went to have lunch with him, and his condition had vastly improved. He was talkative and had color back in his face. We visited for a while, and when I went to leave he told me he loved me twice and blew me a kiss. He died early that next morning. My mom called from the hospital in the wee hours of the morning to tell me to come and say goodbye. We held his hands as he finally slipped away from us.
In the days that followed, I remember being in sheer awe that my world didn’t implode upon itself. That the walls just didn’t cave in. It just didn’t make sense to me, that when the man who had been my glue and had held my world together for so long was no longer there, that said world would keep turning. How incredibly insensitive of life and the people in it, to just keep going! But it did keep going, even though I was clearly in the middle of a meltdown and falling to pieces. So rude.
There are 7 stages of grief, but let me tell you – I took advantage of the anger stage. I wallowed around in that stage. I unpacked my tent and lived in that stage….for months. I wasn’t mad that he was gone – I had prepared myself for his inevitable death. I was angry at the manner in which he died. During his early morning feeding through the tube, he vomited. He was too weak to get it up and out, so he breathed it in and aspirated. My favorite person drowned in his own vomit. The word angry doesn’t even begin to cover the feelings I had. I was angry at God. I was angry because the most wonderful person I knew had drowned in his own vomit, and I truly felt that he deserved a better death than that. He deserved to go peacefully in his sleep. I was so angry at God that I just quit speaking to Him.
Do you think God was shocked by my behavior? No. Disappointed…..yes. But God knows my heart, and He knew I was hurting. Our Heavenly Father knows His children. He wanted me to lean on Him and His understanding in my time of need, but I turned my back and continued to be angry. This is why you need to pray for your friends – in good times and in bad. Because I had friends and a Mom, who even though she was hurting, leaned on God and prayed for me each and every day. They prayed me out of the darkness.
One night, I had horrible dreams all night long. Each time I closed my eyes, I had a dream in which my dad died. Each time, he died a different way. Early the next morning, I reflected on those dreams and had a moment of clarity. See, we are only promised a certain number of minutes on Earth. You only get so many breaths to take. His minutes were simply up, and he had taken his very last allotted breath. It would not have mattered what he had been doing – it was his time to go. Had he been driving down the road, piddling in his shop, or being fed through a feeding tube in the hospital – it was his time to go home. Once this became clear to me, I stopped being angry at God. I leaned on Him, and He held my hand and led me out of the anger stage.
Today is Father’s Day. If you are reading this and you have lost your dad – I see you. My heart goes out to you and I understand what you are going through. You probably feel like you have lost your way and a little unsecure, since your safety net is no longer there. I am sorry. I have been there and it sucks. Be still and lean on your Heavenly Father at this time. Ask your friends and family to pray for you and to stand in the gap for you, when you lose your way and become tired.
If you are reading this and you still have a dad that loves you and makes you feel like you are the best thing on the face of the planet – go hug him. Hug him tight and let him know how you feel. Because we only get so many minutes to do these things. Only God knows how many breaths we will get to take here on Earth, so make sure you are making the most of them. When I lay my head down on my pillow each night, the one thing I am certain of, is that my dad knew how much I loved him and how much I adored him. I never missed an opportunity to tell him, but what I wouldn’t give to be able to tell him one more time.
Much Love – Nikki
Beautifully Messy 