Still a lost little girl
I was 13 and my spoiled brat cousin told me at school "you know if its cancer your dads going to die", I had no idea what she was even talking about. I got home from school and asked my mom what was going on (my parents had been divorced since I was 3) she told me that her and my dad talked and he had gone thru some testing and nobody quite knew what was going on. Summer between my freshman and sophomore year in high school my dad was finally diagnosed with Non Hodgkins Lymphoma. He went and had his tonsils removed and underwent radiation. His cancer went into remission and we all were relived. He went in for his 3 month check up and the cancer was back and it had spread. The doctors set up a biweekly chemo treatment program and I was out of school a lot my sophomore year so I could be with him. They thought they got it again and it went into remission yet again, but in less then 3 months it was back and it was in his lungs. He went into the hospital on August 8th 2001 and came home on the 11th hospice was supposed to come in, he passed on the 14th.
The night before he passed my sister and I were arguing about something, I was 15 by this point and was getting ready to go get braces the next morning. It was my dads wish that I have straight teeth. I yelled down the stairs something at my sister and my dad asked me what I said and I snapped at him "I wasnt talking to you!" and stormed off to bed. The next morning I got up for my appointment at 6am and he was sleeping so I didnt wake him up to say goodbye. I went to my appointment and on the way home my sister had to go to the bathroom so we stopped at my stepgrandparents house and I could see that grandpa was upset. Grandma pulled my sister into the kitchen and told her my dad had passed. My 4 yr old neice was on the floor playing and said "Papa Bruces magic ice cubes made him all better". My sister then told me what happened, I said I wanted to go there. On the way out to my dads I called my mom and told her. She called my Grandma (her mom) and they rushed out there. When we got to my dads my sister didnt even have the car in park and I was already out the door running towards the house.
I got inside ran past everybody and climbed onto his hospital bed. My stepmom told us that he took his last breath at 903am I had finished my appointment at 900am. I remember his eyes were open and I couldnt get them to shut and his mouth was open and I couldnt get that to close either. To this day that image is still burned into my mind. I cant remember what he looked like before he got sick, and I dont have very many memories that I can recall with him.
Its been 12 years almost since that day and a lot has happened. I had to stifle my emotions at school, kids looked at me as if I had 3 eyes, and they talked about me behind my back. My dads father doesnt interact with me the same way he does all the other grandkids. And he has a hard time looking at me. I noticed this right after my dad passed and i started to develop a hate for myself because I hurt them because I look like him.
After reading some things on this site i have realized I have never properly grieved for my father, part of that might be because i feel hes never been buried. He was placed in the columbarium of my grandparents church. To me thats not fitting. Im now 27 and being flooded by all these emotions and I have no idea what to do or how im supposed to work thru them. I feel like a basket case lost little girl.