When ever I think about my dad, 2 dates always come to mind, July 5th, and August 28th.
July 5th is the date of his death, I can recall with absolute clarity where I was, what time it was, and how I felt at that moment. In the kitchen, 6:30 am, sadness, loss and a small sense of relief that Dad was no longer suffering, and that his long ordeal that really started in 1989 was finally over.
You see, Dad was a cancer survivor, in 1989, he was diagnosed with bowel cancer, had surgery to remove it, no recurrence, no chemo etc, and stayed that way until 2001, when it came back.
2001, surgery, chemo (painful chemo, new drugs, worse than the cancer, he said) months later, back in remission, doing better, travelling, and skiing again.
2006, March, dreaded phone call, middle of the night, in hospital, a decision was made by all of us for a DNR order. weeks later Dad home doing OK, not great, but OK.
May/June, see dad, not great, getting ready for us to move back closer to home in a few weeks say see you soon to Dad, he replies with a goodbye.
July 5th, 2006 Dad gone a long fight over, drive to work to arrange time off, Paul Brandt's "Home" comes on radio, lose my shit the reality sinks in.
August 28th is Dad's Birthday he would have been 78. I still miss you dad, and so do the boys, you loved them and it showed, they loved you too, and I hope you are still watching as they grow into 3 young men that you could be proud of.
3 years ago