lessons from my father

What has been taken from you can never be replaced
But what you have given me can never be taken away
See you in heaven

A little after my 30th birthday in 2002, my dad called me.  His voice was somber, he started, "hi peaches" and then "I have something to tell you...", his voice cracking on the 'you'.  Then I heard muffled cries and his girlfriend's emotionless voice "Your father can't talk to tell you this.  He has leukemia, a really aggressive kind, and the doctors have told him he has 6 months to live."  I remember crying out noooooo nooooooo, immediate tears and my knees buckling and falling to the floor.  Whenever I see a scene in a movie when someone is so stricken with agony that it presents in physical pangs, I think to myself  'I know this pain'.

My father was such a positive and uplifting energy in my life.  He was always there for me, called me constantly and we confided a lot in each other.  The months that followed I would go to my classes M-Thurs and hop on a bus from NYC to Boston, stay at the Ronald McDonald House and be with him every moment from Fri to Sun.  I did this while he was at Dana Farber where he stayed for different chemo clinical trials.

Every visit seemed to be more intimate than the one before.  A dying man, who although wanted to appear brave, feeling the need to tell me all of the things he had held in.  He talked a lot about his time in Vietnam, his upbringing, his marriage and divorce to my mom, and his current relationship. (even though I say girlfriend, they were together 23 years so it was more like his 2nd wife).  My 'stepsister' for lack of a better word (it seems weird calling her his girlfriend's daughter because in many ways we grew up together) had 3 children at that point who he doted on. He loved them so much, he glowed when he told me stories about them.  He was the most happy spending time with his children and grandchildren.  I saw then what my future children were being robbed of.  I'm so happy that my stepsister gave him that joy, and I know that they loved him back as hard as he loved them.  I wish so much that my children had even a moment with their grampy.  They know him through my stories and they ask about him lots, but I know how much they would have embraced each other.  I got to see it firsthand through Maraina, Tristen and Maerta....an unconditional love.  My dad was the kind of person who always had your back...complete support and always there to talk it out.

I went back to college later in life and was graduating on May 10, 2003 about 8 months after his diagnosis.  There were certain things that he was determined to do.  One was to walk my stepsister down the aisle in April of 2003, which he got to do, and two was to see me graduate from college.  He would tell all the nurses as they came into his room "yup my daugther is graduating summa cumm laude" pronouncing it correctly and loudly, very proud.  He came to NJ but it was cold and rainy out, and he was already very fragile and his blood counts were low, so he wasn't able to be at the actual ceremony.  We had a party after at my in-laws house, and he seemed so happy and healthy - had a great appetite, which was not the usual!  It meant the world to me to have him there.  On his drive back to Maine, it seems that my dad's breathing was getting progressively worse, and his girlfriend drove him straight to Dana Farber in Boston.  A few days later I got a phone call from my aunt and brother, they were with him and the doctors and nurses were telling them that it 'could be any time'.  Matt and I immediately got in the car and drove, arriving in Boston somewhere around 2a.m.  The next day we took him home to Maine, and he died the following day with his family surrounding him.  I really think once he walked my step sister down the aisle, and made it through my graduation, he knew he didn't have to endure in his failing body anymore.  

It was an honor and a privilege being his daughter, experiencing a beautiful closeness as he neared death that many people will never experience in a lifetime.  If you remain open to the gifts during the darkness, they will come to you.  The beauty of impermanence is that we never know what can or will happen in any given day.  I've been moping around these last 2 days because I now know that in addition to my 4 rounds of chemo, I need to do 6 weeks of radiation.  I am trying hard to be done with the moping.  I had my pity party now it's time to pick myself up and go back into beast mode.  I will do this because I have to,  My dad knew he was dying but tried everything.  I think he had 9 rounds of chemo and clinical trials.  He didn't give up hope until we were at the end and then the hope of living became the hope of living without him.  I am so blessed to have gone through that time with him to better prepare me for this time that I face.  My cancer is not terminal, I was not given 6 months or even 10 years.  I have a lifetime left to embrace.

Chemo starts next Friday, 4 rounds in 12 weeks.  Radiation everyday for 6 1/2 weeks after that (well Mon-Fri, it's like a job I get the weekends off).  This brings us to July 8th....I think I will allow myself to heal for the remainder of the summer before getting my final reconstructive surgery in the Fall.  2015 will be largely dedicated to kicking cancer's ass but I do it knowing I will be fine and better for it in the end.  I hope that when we face uncertainty in the future, we will look back at this time, and know that we can do hard things.

Whatever the future holds, I pray my children will draw from this time, and know, no matter what they face, WE GOT THIS!