My heart belongs to Daddy
I lost my father February 4, 2014. He was diagnosed with lung cancer just 7 days before his death. When he was admitted to the hospital they said the cancer was everywhere and it had spread too much to treat.
My father never liked going to the doctor and fought so hard to avoid it despite being terribly short of breath and losing so much weight. My father was painfully uncomfortable with the idea of taking care of himself.
I wish there was some way I could have made him go.
My dad was my hero. He saved my life literally. My mother has a mental illness and at the beginning of my life by default she was given custody. My dad fought for 2 years for full custody and anguished over what was happening to us the whole time. Once, my father pulled my twin sister and I out of the apartment when my mother had attempted to kill all three of us via by carbon monoxide poisoning.
My father was such a compassionate, intelligent and kind man. An entire community of people loved my dad. I was unaware of how many people my father took care of and protected until he died. After his death I learned that he protected his mother from elder abuse from her youngest son and supported her emotionally and financially in the midst of the death of an alcoholic parent and husband. All of these were closely guarded family secrets.
It feels like everything's changed. And I regret that my father sacrificed so much to take care of everyone else but himself.
I have my father's huge sense of responsibility. I tried going back to work right away because as a teacher I worried about taking care of my students. But the grief and anxiety was too difficult. It is hard to learn how to be different now. It is hard to understand what to do next without my father quietly taking care of it all and never complaining. I have this habit of doing the same thing - just taking care of everyone else and avoiding my own pain. Somehow I have to learn to be different.
I miss him so much.