UNFORGETTABLE1's blog: "Tribute to my Father"

It's difficult to lose someone you love. There really are no words to describe how it feels. I know many of you have lost someone you loved and I'm sorry that anyone should ever have to go through the pain, but I guess it's just a part of this journey we're on  that we call life.

I lost my father more than once, (In different ways than actual death, I lost him twice)

The first time I lost him, I was just six years old. He was everything to me, and we were inseperable. One day as he was driving home from work, he got behind a semi truck without flaps, and a 4 1/2 lb rock spun through the tires, and flew through his windshield, and smashed his head. We found him over 8 hours later. Apparantly he had been lying in a wheat field for the 8 hours, but then sat up and drove himself (with a shattered windshiel) back to where he worked. I was sitting in the car with my mom, and when we pulled up alongside the truck, he looked over at us and smiled. He was unrecognizable, and he should have died, but they put his eye back in place, and wired his face together, and then he was gone.

Of course, he had to have lots of therapy, and relearning how to function, because of the damage done to his brain, but as a six year old, all I knew was my daddy was gone. He certainly didn't leave me behind on purpose, and he had no control over the circumstances, but I was without him just the same.

Eventually, the time came, where we could once again spend time together, but it was never capable of being the person I had known as a little girl.

The second time I lost him, was a gradual process. His memory and emotional stability started to fade, and he looked like my father, but the combination of his age, and his head injury began to take it's toll. I can't really explain it, but it's a very painful and heartbreaking feeling  (although he was aware of who we were and he continued to show his love for us daily)to see the person you love, and know so well, kind of disappear, becoming someone you don't really know at all.

I mourned the loss both of those times, and my life was forever altered, but this time I lost him permanently.  Even though the other times were painful, to know that someone you adored, loved, and counted on is gone, and I can't see him to tell him how much I love him anymore. When his memory was failing he still had his good days, but with death, I lost him completely.

 As of today, it's been a week since his death, and I am completely overwhelmed. Seeing my mother (who had him for 66 years as a husband) feel as if her heart is breaking, is extremely difficult, and one of the things I find so difficult to deal with was that we were not even given a week's time to accept that he would be going. He went in for congestion, which the Dr. thought might be pneumonia, and then a few days later, sat us down and said it was stage four cancer. There was no time to prepare because he went so quickly, and I suppose when I really stop to think about it, how does one prepare to lose one of the most important people in their life?

I refuse to wallow in self=pity, because I know that is the last thing he would want, however, this great sense of loss hangs over me, and he was such a spectacular person, I find it hard to think that I will live the rest of my life, not ever hearing his voice again.I'll miss the hugs, the laughter, and I want to do my best to make him proud of me, even though he is no longer here. He left an amazing legacy, and I hope I will continue to grow stronger and to follow the best I can on the path he taught me to walk.

He was the only person I have ever known who never lied to me, (with the exception of letting me think there was a Santa Claus) Even in the last years, we still continued to develop that special bond of love, that comes only through time, and even with the adversity that was present, he was still one of the most loving, and gracious people I've ever known.

 I apologize for the rambling. As a writer, I'm supposted to be able to do this gracefully and to paint a picture that you can envision, but for this time I am not capable of accomplishing eloquence. I'm just writing to heal