I am writing this while sitting in a hospital waiting room. Waiting for my dad, who is terminally ill. There is nothing more anyone can do for my family. There is nothing more I can hope for. All that there is left to do is enjoy the time to come, the memories we will share, to reflect on our lives and to try and resist the pain of this harsh reality that has been thrown onto my family. Here is an open letter to my terminally ill father:
To the dad that taught me to play soccer, awkwardly sat through all of my dance recitals, scared off all of my high school boyfriends, and unconditionally loved me though every single mistake, I say thank you. Thank you for being the best father you could since the day mom brought me into this world. Thank you for encouraging me when I needed it, and picking me up when I couldn't pick myself up.
I am sorry for the mistakes I have made, for the attitude I gave and I am seriously so sorry that one time I sneaked out in the eighth grade. I am sorry I don't come home enough, I'm sorry I don't call everyday and I'm sorry I call crying because I think I failed my midterms.
Thank you for forgiving me, thank you for laughing at my eighth grade silliness, thank you for understanding I am busy, thank you for understanding I am stressed, thank you for letting me cry and beg you to let me drop out and thank you for not actually letting me drop out.
I am sorry you hurt. I am sorry you have to take so much medicine. I am sorry we go to the hospital so much. I am sorry your body has failed you. I am sorry I haven't done enough.
Thank you for smiling through the pain, for always taking your medicine, for getting up everyday through the pain, for not hating yourself and thank you for telling me I have been the best daughter. Thank you for the life you have given me.
I will be by your side until the day you take your last breathe, and I will work every day to make you proud after that. You will always be the best dad I could of asked for, you will always be one of my best friends and one day I will make it for you. For us.
Love, your daughter who isn't quite ready to let go.
Thank you for letting me share this with all of you.