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Dad

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During that short-visit to help me move-in, my father suddenly developed a deep sleep. It wasn’t the kind of sleep he used to do. It was the stiff sleep. We were too busy to notice. I was outside when it happened.

Now I have this sticky dread drips from my brain and collect in my chest. I spend the following day vacillating between distracting myself from the horror of what happened during my dad’s last night on this planet and gently cradling those memories in my head, turning them over again and again so that their jagged edges won’t be forgotten.

He was one of the most incredible men who ever spent a little time on this planet.

Make it – all of it – matter now, because you never know what the future has in store for you.

Dad loved my mom with a bright, white, funny, hot-kind love that I haven’t seen again since he left.

He loved me and my eight siblings unconditionally, and he also made sure we knew we were loved.

Well, death didn’t care about any of those things – dream, plan, us – none of it mattered. I learned that the only things that matter are what we are doing now – today. We never know how much more time we have left.

I didn’t cry, not a single tear until my mom broke down in front of me and asked me, between violent sobs, “How am I going to do this?” being lose him, live without him, I just silently held her, hugged her, because there simply was nothing to say.

That night was the last time that I saw my father – the man who raised me to be the woman I am.

He was as always, filled with joy, made joke and being the centre of attention. He taught me what it means to be loved and to love and for that to be both everything and still not enough.

I miss him badly. There are days when something incredible or awful happens to me and I want to tell him, but I can’t. About friends, about boyfriends who probly he wanted to meet, about jobs I have nabbed and jobs I have hated, and other assorted triumphs and nightmares that I wanted him to know about. The reality is that he’s gone. He has missed so much, including the woman I’ve grown up to be and how much braver I’ve become since I last held him.

My dad’s death was a tragedy. Anyway I learned so much about who I am, who my father was, what it means to love, what it means to lose something you foolishly thought you wouldn’t lose and, ultimately, what it means to then to have carry on – what it means to get up everyday and keep going.

I am my daddy’s little daughter, I wanna be healthy and happy like him until I die, just like him.

 

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