To my hero... big_daddy: Dear Papa,
It’s been over two years, and yet again this morning, I woke up missing you. I wish you were still here, because I could really use you in my life right now. And I know that in some way, you still are, because I still hear the words you told me, and I still live my life, aspiring to be the man that you were. I feel like I’m falling well short of that bar at times.
I spend far too many hours reflecting on the day that you left. I always told everyone that when Mama left, it was hard, because it was so unexpected, and I never got to say good-bye. But I’m not really sure that’s so true anymore. We didn’t have to watch her suffer, and fight a battle that we all knew could not be won. I wish I had spent more time with you, I wish I had made it a higher priority, and as busy as I claimed to be…I know its not entirely true. It hurt too bad Papa, I wanted to be there but I couldn’t, because it just hurt too bad. Because even though neither of us would say it, we both knew exactly what was coming, we just didn’t know when.
I remember getting the call from my mom, they said you had only a couple weeks left. At that point, I knew I had to get over it, I had to come be there for you. I committed myself to going to see you as often as I could and making sure you knew how much I loved you, how much you meant to me, how very much I wanted to be just like you. If only I had known that the very next morning, less than one day later…I’d get another call, telling me I needed to be there now, I needed to come say good-bye.
I cried all the way to the hospital Papa, but when I got there I committed to being strong, because I knew you would be strong. You were always strong. I never saw you hurt, never saw you cry, rarely even saw you get upset. But when I got up to your room, and saw you laying there, you barely even looked like yourself. And that is the part I desperately try to forget. You were still aware of your surroundings at that point, they had just given you the first morphine. I remember saying “Hi Papa”, and taking your hand into mine. I hadn’t held your hand since I was a little kid, and suddenly I felt like I was a little kid all over again. I wanted to be strong, I did Papa, and I tried, but I couldn’t. I managed to utter a whispering “I love you Papa.” And then, came the memory that replays through my head every time I miss you.
I remember you squeezing my hand, but it wasn’t the same firm squeeze I was so used to, it was gentle, and frail, as you said, “I love you too.” But that wasn’t the memory Papa, it was your eyes…when I looked in your eyes as you said it, I saw the tears, and the sadness because you knew that we were in fact saying good-bye for the last time. Those were the last words I got from you…but I sat there and held your hand for what was in fact hours but only seemed like minutes. I moved every once a while so others could sit next to you, but I always went back when the seat was open again. At some point the squeezes stopped…and I knew it was only a matter of time.
And then as we all sat around, telling wonderful stories of my Papa and how incredible you were, as Aunt Reba told us stories of you and her as kids, I realized how alike we were. And we also noticed, that as she told her stories…you had said your final good-bye.
Papa, I live every day, aspiring to be the man that you were, the man that you wanted me to be. I will never get there, I will never be as incredible a man as you were. And right now I feel like I am failing miserably in my attempt. But that day, the day that we said good-bye, I saw in you a piece that I had never ever seen…and in an instant, I knew how much you loved me and how proud you were of me. And I hope that in that instant, you learned something as well.
You are my hero. I may never be the man that you were, but I will die trying.
I love you Papa, and I miss you and Mama more than words could ever express.
E
Re: To my hero... Azhure: That was beautiful- truly
