Thursday, October 17, 2013


Thursday was just like Wednesday, Daddys breathing was erratic and faint. His extremeties were really starting to swell. I just couldnt believe I was watching my Daddy die right before my eyes. He could no longer attempt at squeezing my hand, his eyes didn't even flutter, he just laid there peacefully, barely alive. I couldn't take my eyes off of him all day, until it was time for bed. My mother had been sleeping in the windowsill couch, and my brother on a cot that hospital security found us, we had basically moved in for two weeks. I was in a reclining type chair next to Dads bed, and just like when he was at home, I had my loptop open watching NetFlix so he could watch them with me. His breathing was becoming more and more shallow, I just kept waiting for his chest to not come up again. I was so upset, but my body didn't know how to show it, it knew I had to remain strong, if Daddy was going to go tonight, my mother and brother are both asleep, it'd just be me. But then I thought about two December's ago, in this very hospital, how I had just gotten to Daddys room from being at school for class, when the doctor came in and told us he had severe staged cancer. It was just me and him then, and it was just me and him now. We always shared a special bond, I was his little girl... We could exchange looks at eachother and get our point across, he didn't have to communicate how he felt to me then and he didn't have to now. I just curled up in my chair with a bunch of hospital blankets, I took his hand, and I waited. 

The nurse came in to give him his next round of medications a little after midnight, just as I was telling Daddy about Mariano Riveras last game and how Jeter and Andy took him out in style, I kissed his hand that I was holding and I just stared at him. Thinking about all the things he had taught me in my life, all the values and loves that he had instilled in me, and how scared I was about life without my Daddy... When I looked up, he exhaled, and his chest didn't come back up. I looked at the clock, 1:06am ... It was now Friday and I didn't even realize it. I stared back at him, his chest still hadn't risen, I almost threw up right then and there... He was gone, completely and totally gone. I looked at my little brother snoring on a cot next to me, and my mom asleep across the room. It was just me and Daddy, just like this journey started, I couldn't let go of his hand, I had to use my other hand to separate us. Then I made sure his eyes were completely closed, and I went to wake up my mom.

"Momma, ... Momma, he's gone."

She looked up and sat up and sighed, and we both woke up my brother... We all cried for a bit, and then started to clean up the mess we had made of the room over the past two weeks. And once we felt okay enough, we went and told the nurses what had happened...

Then we had to leave, we had to say goodbye... I didn't want to go, but the funeral home was coming soon and we needed to get some sleep to be able to handle the weekend ahead of us. I just kept kissing his forehead like I always did, his skin already starting to turn yellow, I didn't care, he's still my Daddy...mine. 

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Wednesday Part 2

Like I was saying, cancer sucks... Yup, it does. Especially when it lingers in your life for long periods of time, like "I'm killing your loved one, but I'm going to take my sweet ass time". F cancer, seriously, F it.

We spent all day Wednesday watching Daddy sleep, he fluttered his eyes a few times,  but not consiously, he could not possibly know what was really going on. I tested it, I put some raspberry jelly from a donut, his favorite, on my finger and I put it on his lip, no reaction. If he had had any second of awareness, he wouldve been all over that. .... I started to accept that my Daddy as I knew him, was gone. There was none of my father left in this human body, just the remnants of his soul, his never give up, fight until the end, soul. He was such an incredible person, he fought harder than any living being should ever be expected to. He literally took "you have 3 months" and turned it into 22, TWENTY TWO! who does that?!?!?! Without celebrity money and millionaire afforded surgeries, the answer is no one.

But he did.
My Daddy, he did it.
He survived, he provailed, he told cancer to go F itself, he had more life to live.

And live is exactly what he did.

Monday, October 7, 2013


After spending several hours Tuesday night with Daddy being awake and trying to talk to me, Wednesday was really hard. He was in a deep sleep, morphine helped of course, but even if you shouted his name in his face, he wasn't going to wake up. We kept his pain medicine dosing pretty consistent, but not too close together either. There's was no way to know for sure, but I kept telling myself he was comfortable and not in any pain. His body was shutting down, little by little. I thought I was okay with this, I had told him I was okay with this... I was wrong. I could barely bring myself to sit next to him let alone hold his hand like I always did, because I knew he wasn't waking up this time... I knew it, I knew it and I couldnt handle it. I just wanted one more smile... But I settled for talking in his ear, the doctors and hospice staff told us that the last two senses to leave us are touch and hearing, so I stroked his hair and talked to him.

Kind of like how you too to a baby, knowing they can't respond to you or really understand what you're saying, but you want them to hear your voice and feel your love. I kept having to remind myself to breathe, I was more concerned with his breathing..... I'd watch his chest rise and fall, no two breaths the same length or depth, and as his chest fell each time, my heart would stop waiting for it to rise again. With each millisecond in between--- all the thoughts that had built up over the past 22 months flashed through my brain, but then... His chest would rise, my heart would start pounding again, and I'd feel relief, but not a typical relief, it was relief mixed with guilt mixed with anxiety and pain... I'll admit it, I wanted him to die. I wanted him to leave his cancer and turmoil behind him, I wanted his wakes and funeral to be sooner rather than later (if they had gone one day later they would have kept me from starting my Americorps training) I wanted my family to be able to finally start grieving... Stage four cancer is a death sentence, but daddy kept beating all odds over and over to the point that some family members thought he was indestructible, ..... In my mind, he still is.

Sunday, October 6, 2013

Tuesday Night

This past Tuesday night, Daddy woke up at like 10pm while my mother and brother were asleep in the hospital rooms extra chairs. He couldnt talk, well... He couldn't form sounds or words, but he was trying so hard to talk to me. I just kept talking to him, holding and kissing his hand, and trying to show him that I understood what he was saying. I nodded along to his forced facial expressions, once I swear I saw his lips form "love you", but he cohldnt actually talk to me... I was so happy to have his eyes open, let alone that he was alert enough to want to speak to me. His eyes were glazed over, but I could still see all the brilliant blue that was so familiar to me. I tried so hard to never let our eyes part gazes, as I just talked and talked for hours. I told him how much I loved him, and how much I was going to miss him. I told him that I would make sure that mom and my brother were taken care of, I'd make sure I took care of all the financials I could and I'd help around the house as much as my strength and schedule would let me. I told him I'd force my brother to take the GED, I told him I'd support my brother through anything he needed, I'd try so hard to be the best big sister I could be. I told him that he was the best father I had ever witnessed, that he never even came close to disappointing me, ever. I told him that I was so proud to be his little girl, that he had put up such a fight, that I will never meet another person to ever compare to his strength. And then I told him I loved him over and over and over, I was running out of things to say, it was almost 4am, and my dying and exhausted Daddy was still gripping my hand and trying to comfort me. I just kept talking, holding all my tears back, until I saw a tear come from his eye and his eyebrows started to shake and I couldn't control myself I started sobbing into his blankets at the side of the bed until I could compose myself enough to stand up, I wiped his tear and I kissed his forehead like I had every day for 22 months... And I whispered in his ear that it was okay to die, that he didn't have to fight anymore, he could go to Heaven and see grandma and grandpa and nana and pa and all his favorites from history, that he could watch the Yankees play good baseball for eternity... I told him that I was just so proud of what he had done, how happy I was that he fought for all this extra time with him that I shouldn't have had, that he had beaten all odds... I sat back down nd took his hand again, and he tried so hard to squeeze it but all he could do was move his thumb closer to mine. I watched his eyes shut, and I told him I loved him again, as I laid my head on his arm and blankets and fell asleep at his bedside. That was the last time I ever saw my Daddys eyes... His beautiful blue eyes.