My Daddy Was Dead To Me
He has always been my favorite guy. His stature has always been confident but still can be vulnerable at times. The values he taught me, I saw in him. Kindness, hard work, honesty, integrity, being the best, acceptance. The leader of the house and life partner with my mom, he is a man who is open for compromise and love from me, my mom, and my brothers.
My Superman, he has always been. My understanding of who I am and who I should allow in my life is from his words as echoed by my mom. How could I possibly live a life without him in it? I couldn’t.
Dads, ones who ensure and encourage.
As I have had limited relationships throughout my young adult life, I remembered the mental and emotional struggles I have had as I waited to be “chosen”. The list of convictions I was told I should have was partly the reason of my bouts of “singleness” at times. Dad validated my choice with kind reminders that it’s okay to be particular and the person for me will show.
Such a concept of dads. The one we look for to be the head, the provider, and the protector for most girls. The life of the party, the king of the castle, and the storyteller who made our dreams come true. My dad was just that one. Those who know me understand that he is my bestie!
Honestly, nothing has been complete unless he was either there, available to talk about it or giving me his thoughts on the issue.
Then…the Call.
My mother texted that she was at the hospital with my dad. It stopped me in my tracks. My current conversation ended and I continued to stare in disbelief at my phone as Mom continued to spill the words into her phone as they slowly and with multiple crashes, crept across my screen.
Daddy had a health issue that required him to be taken to the emergency room and there was a necessary decision to admit him. Mom was unable to talk due to needing to be focused on what was going on there. With every word she texted, there was a slash to my heart.
My Dad was Dead to Me
Immediately, I began to force myself to picture a life without him. The next steps of going through his belongings, smelling his clothes as a reminder of his cologne. Remembering times with him as a young girl and how he was my first love.
Suddenly remembering that he has always mentioned that he demands to be cremated; typical me, of course, wondered if he was an organ donor. The next day I began to think, what about my mom? After 52 years of marriage, what will happen to her emotionally? She’ll move with us; no, she will want her space and family visits.
As my emotions continue to get the best of me, I call my mom expecting the next steps in this transition. This whole process allowed me, though I thought, to prepare myself for the loss of my dad. My nerves were in overdrive as her phone rang on the other end.
Ready to accept that our lives will change forever without my dad, he answered. Sounding tired but a good report given, I was excited and almost ashamed I went through the mental adjustment of the loss. Just a few days later, he was allowed to go home. And who was the first phone call from when he entered their front door? You guessed it.