Life support, you say? To the average person, referring to someone as your "life support" could seem a bit dramatic. In my situation, I really underestimated how much I needed my dad until I couldn't have him anymore. On July 12, 2015, my life-support became even significant to me because I will never have the chance to really show my dad how much I appreciate him.
Now - Let me rewind so you get a clearer look into how I have lived up until eleven months ago.
You see that man right there? That's my dad.
Yes, at cookout, where else?
My dad was more than just a dad and definitely deserved more than the years I was given with him for me to tell him how much I appreciate him.
- single father
- grandfather
- self-employed
- motivator
- boss
My dad was all of these and never failed to excel at any of them. My dad was a man who always stood by those he loved and if you knew me as a child, he had to possess some kind of powerful love for me in order to put up with me... (I mean, just look at how crazy I must've been by the picture below.)
He was one of the ONLY men who I knew with such a selfless and caring heart. Long story short, my daddy hadn't always been the most fortunate. He'd been bitten by a water moccasin, struck by lightning, fallen off of a ten story building, survived third degree burns, heart-stint surgery and even inhaling fumes at work that burned his esophagus and lungs to the extent that he was on life support and you'd never guess it by looking at him. (Ironic that I found this quote on his Facebook page.)
So why now?
The day it happened was not unlike any other. He went to get breakfast, while I slept in, of course. When he got back, I went for my usual run and continued on to hangout with my friends for the remainder of the day.
This is when things changed. The night it happened, I don't even remember what was going through my mind. The weirder thing is that I deleted all of my texts (which I never do) and went to my mother's house before I even knew it happened. Getting a phone call from my brother at 11 pm was nothing out of the ordinary, until I heard his voice crack when he hung up the phone. That's when I knew something was seriously wrong. Hearing that my dad died in an accident less than 30 seconds from our home was almost unbearable. My whole life with him flashed before my eyes as the most excruciating scream of pain came out of my body. Death is never hard on those who die, but hard on those who experience life after death.
How do you live without someone you've never had to live without? This is not like a "boyfriend/girlfriend" heartbreak blah, blah; this is a life changing heartbreak. 18 years. My dad had never given up on me nor my siblings. How could I give up on him now? How could someone with so much life be... dead...? I guess that's what went through my head at the time: That it wasn't true. I didn't want to believe it. I mean, who would?
The day after was probably the hardest as I sat there in my longest friend's living room, astonished that it wasn't just a bad dream. As the hours passed, I checked my phone constantly just to see if there was some mistake; as if you'd just fallen into a deep sleep after the accident and you were back home, but we all know that never came.
As the days passed, I moved out of my dad's house and had to leave behind everything that I'd known for over a decade. I found comfort in certain friends and the memories that people shared with me about my dad. Knowing that my dad loved me unconditionally helps my horrible thoughts, but if I said I didn't (and don't still) cry at the mentioning of my dad being gone, I'd be lying.
Some days are better than others. As in I'm not absolutely dying inside when I see my friends enjoying things with their dads that my dad would usually be there with me for. Each day is a mystery and I never know how I'll feel until it happens. I'm assuming that's an effect of losing someone who you've never been without.
Now - I am hopeful.
Yes, I said it. Hopeful. Hopeful that each day will be better than the last. Hopeful that I can one day find peace with the fact that someone who had lived so long for me is now living with God.
I am hopeful that I will never forget the many summers that my dad spent constantly traveling so that I could play softball. Every fit I threw, every tear I cried, every dramatic helmet sling when something didn't go my way. And he still refused to give up on me. I hope I can always remember that if it weren't for him telling me "you'll never play in college if you don't stop crying," I really wouldn't have had the opportunity to play in college.
I am hopeful that I will marry a man similar to my daddy. A handy man, someone who was willing to help anyone and someone who would give their happiness up to see someone else happy. A man who chooses his children over materialistic things and women. And a man who loves God.
And above all, I am hopeful that I am someone's life support like my father has been mine.
Advice for those experiencing something similar... Don't blame those around you. They can't change what happened and neither can you. Appreciate the memories and sacrifices that your loved one made for you. And most of all, never doubt the fact that they loved you. They did not choose to go, God chose them. Sure, it's easier to say it than to believe it. I'm still convincing myself of that. Being hopeful in a bad situation always helps more than being negative.
Be appreciative, love those who love you and never take anyone for granted because nobody is promised a tomorrow.
