Every year I feel a little saddened in October, because October 10th is my dad's birthday. He was born October 10, 1934. He passed June 11, 2005. He had sweet sideburns.
1979: Dad's 45th Birthday (and me)
1989: Dad's 55th Birthday (and me)
My dad passed away when I was 25 years old. Two years and one month prior, he was diagnosed with a very rare bladder cancer. This cancer grew in the lining of organ walls, unlike typical tumors. Therefore, this cancer was extremely hard to detect, and it was very aggressive. He was diagnosed in May 2003, and had a major eight-hour surgery in June 2003 which removed his bladder and a large portion of his intestines. The surgeon told my mother and I, IF my dad survived that surgery, he gave him two months. Two months. This was a complete blow considering we thought the surgery would heal him completely. But, dad didn't settle for that. He then lived through multiple surgeries, ostomy bags, rounds of chemo, radiation, trips to MD Anderson, and many other struggles over the next two years. He lived two years and one month, and he defied everything the doctors predicted.
June 2003 (shortly after his major surgery)
He went into a remission for a short while, during the summer of 2004, and being the optimistic and very naive person I was at the time, I figured he was well and cancer-free, and I could then move to DFW for a graphic design job and get the heck out of Waco. Of course after moving to Arlington in September of 2004, dad's cancer returned. I was living alone, starting a challenging job, and my dad--my hero, teacher, supporter, etc.--was suffering everyday to fight cancer.
You can't explain to anyone what it's like to have a terminally ill parent. The only thing I can imagine worse than losing a parent is losing your child. My mother lost two daughters, and I can't imagine that. Losing your parent is terrifying. Watching someone suffer through cancer is unexplainable. Cancer literally wastes you away, and it's completely heartbreaking. All I did was pray, pray, and pray some more. My mother had just survived chemo and breast cancer, and now my dad was so very sick. I thought, seriously?! Why my parents?? Why my dad? Every time the phone rang, for months, I was terrified it was "the phone call". It's the most helpless, constantly anxious feeling I've ever had to this day. Not only was my dad sick, but my mother was his 24/7 caregiver, and my big brother had to step up and run our family company all on his own. My mom had been married to my dad for 43 years, and she was dealing with the realization that she was losing the man she'd been with since she was 17 years old. Her family was her life, and being a homemaker and caregiver was all that she'd known. God Bless my mother for all she did for my dad.
Daddy, momma and I, Fall 2003
July 4, 2004: (1 year post-diagnosis, Dad in remission)
November 2004, Thanksgiving
My dad wasn't able to meet my husband Michael. I had met Michael five months before he passed. I wanted to bring him down to meet my parents, but mom always insisted that dad was too tired for company. I so wish he could've met him. They are so much alike it's scary. The day my dad passed Michael came into the hospital room, and I told dad Michael was there. I told daddy he was the man I was going to marry, and to not worry, that Michael would take good care of me. He wasn't conscious at that point but I like to think he heard me. Dad always took care of me, and he wanted me to meet a good man who would do the same.
The last time I saw my dad smile was the night before he passed...I put my mp3 player up to his ears and let him listen to Sinatra's "Fly me to the Moon"...he was smiling and bopping his head, and he told me how much he liked that song. It made me so happy to see him smile. He was so tired. I can't imagine knowing your fate, and realizing the time you have left, but not having strength to hardly do anything. That was the hardest on him. His mind was fine, he was naturally a busy body who ran 100 mph all the time, and this sickness totally drained him from day one. He had said, "I'm so tired of being tired", and I knew he was letting go soon. The next day he passed away surrounded by his family, and he grasped mine and my mother's hands as he took his last breath. At the time I was uncontrollably sobbing and devastated. Now I'm grateful. He was free.
Spring 2004
I gave the eulogy at my dad's funeral. My family said I wouldn't be able to do it. Well, given my nature of doing things just to prove others wrong, I did. It wasn't perfect, but I think it was understandable given the circumstances.
Shortly after his diagnosis, dad told me the two things he would regret the most in his life were: not being there to walk me down the aisle and missing the birth of my children. I know he was there for both occasions, and I truly believe he's here me everyday, but there are days when I sure wish I could talk to him. I wish I could see him sitting at our kitchen table reading the morning paper and drinking his coffee again. I miss his voice more than anything.
I believe he's around, I truly do. Just last night, Michael and I were watching this silly show Long Island Medium, about this woman to speaks to spirits. I've never been one who is into that stuff, but this woman is sure convincing, or the show is a setup. Anyhow, I'm watching this medium talking to young lady about her dad's passing, and the lady is crying as she talks about losing her dad to cancer. I turned to Michael and told him I couldn't watch it anymore, about to lose it. I look away then Michael says "Sarah Sarah!" "Look!" I looked at the tv screen where Michael had changed it to different channel...and paused on the screen was "James Jones", atop a list of football players, pasted across the screen. My dad's name was James Jones.
I know he's in heaven, pain-free, talking to my grandparents and playing with my two sisters, Leslie and Denise. Leslie was stillborn and Denise died of neuroblastoma when she was two. I was the third daughter, and the apple of his eye. I was a "daddy's girl" to the core, and I always will be. It wasn't until after he passed that I began a teaching career, got married, bought a home, began grad school, and had a son. I was pretty stagnant through my dad's illness, but I've stayed busy since he passed. I like to think he'd be proud of me, and how my life has turned out so far...for the most part. The best in me, is because of him. My dad's passing changed who I am. He reminds me of how strong we can be. Most importantly, my dad showed me what it means to have faith. :)
Jesus replied, "You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand."
John 13:7
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