Just Thankful

Around here, we are country music fans. BIG time! King George, has my Mom's heart. It's what we listen to. All the time. Without a doubt, in my heart. It helps make our little world, go round.

That being said, I was crushed to hear about Joey. And through the radio, I've been keeping up with Joey and Rory's story. Heartbreaking. Cancer has a way of doing that. Breaking people's hearts, dreams, and futures.

But their story, has been such an inspiration. One that has provided hope, on some of our darkest days. To hear, she is doing a little better, would make my broken heart, feel a little better. Truth of the matter is, I was hoping for a better ending to their story, than we had for ours.

When I signed onto Facebook today, I noticed all these posts about Joey and Rory. And my heart sunk. I found a link, and clicked on it. To be directed to Rory's blog. And his latest post. In the middle of the library, I sat and read it. And cried.

I cried for all kinds of reasons. These are good people. They shouldn't have to be going through this. No one should really. But these are good people. With such a beautiful love story. It kills me, to know a 40 year old woman, with so much life, is losing her battle.

As I read through the post, I could feel what Rory was going through. In a lot of ways. Grief has a way of doing that. Making a bond, between people, who have lived similar circumstances. And my heart just broke. Knowing what lies ahead, for this family. The emptiness, in your heart. The feeling of, not knowing what comes next. That feeling of, needing to take care of the person, who is longer with us. On earth.

But more than anything, I hurt for their daughter Indy. Just a little girl. 2 years old. And now, she is facing a life, without her mommy. I think about this, from a child's perspective. Because at the end of the day, I am a child. A daughter. That lost her Daddy. It doesn't matter, that I was nearly 32 years old. That I got nearly 30 more years, with my Daddy, than Indy got with her mommy. We both, have lost a parent to cancer.

I've tried to be brave. For a very long time. When my Dad first got sick. Later after his diagnosis. During the battle. When we lost my Dad. And now, in the aftermath. But honestly, I'm still a daughter. Having lost my Daddy. My best friend. The one person, that loved me, completely unconditionally.

It's a tough road. But I'm grateful. That I got nearly 32 years with my Daddy. I knew him. I got to know him even better, during those last few months. I have so many memories of him. And here is this little girl. Not completely understanding, what is happening. About to lose her mommy. They didn't have enough time together. To make memories. To love on each other. To be completely silly, just because...

That's the heartbreak of cancer. It takes you down roads, that you might not be ready to handle. It creates heartbreak. And loss. But it also makes you stronger. It teaches you, to push forward. And at the end of the day, you learn so much about life. About the little things, that for so long, you looked past. All of a sudden, they become important.

In the days following my Dad's death, I learned a lot. About myself. Others. The world. Things that maybe, I'd been too busy or tired for, in the past. All of a sudden, they meant something. I valued the birds chirping, the sun shining, and the gentle breeze.

I do hope, that in the future, Indy will experience these things. That she will have memories of her momma, to look back on. I hope she knows, she is not alone. That there are many people, walking a similar path. Feeling her heartbreak, and heartache. That get on their knees, and pray for her. The same way, they pray for their loved ones. And themselves.

When I say "Just Thankful." There is a lot, behind that. I'm thankful for the time with my Daddy. For the journey we walked together. Because he had cancer, we didn't let that dictate life. We made the best of it. But the journey, it did something for both of us. Made us more aware. More able to live. More willing to love.

I'm thankful, to have a voice. Here. To share our story. To hopefully inspire someone, out there. That they can do it. And to be able to continue with the work, my Dad was so passionate about. I'm thankful he taught me about "paying it forward," living life, and loving with every single part of your being.

32 years, doesn't seem like enough time. It never will be. But I've had more time with my Daddy, than some kids will have with theirs. I'm aware of that. And I also have a family, that has become my "soft place to land." They've been a great support, when I didn't think I had one.

I also have some of the very best friends, that any one person, could ask for. People that truly love and care about me. And my Mom. Friends, who took time out of their day, to send my Dad flowers, cards, stuffed animals, food, and other treats...when he was battling cancer. Friends, that would never let me fall. But who have allowed me the space, to grieve.

I'm thankful, for our dear Lord. Who regardless of my faults, loves me. Without any strings attached. He is my light. My salvation. My love. And I know, that my Lord, has been at my side. This entire journey. And when I just couldn't go any further, he is the one, that has carried me along. He knows my deepest secrets. My entire history. What I think, before I think it. And he loves me, just the same.

I am a very grateful woman. These life experiences have taught me, so much. Most importantly, to live life, to the fullest. To completely, without a doubt, love with everything I have. And to remember the important things. People, not objects. To spend time, with those I love.

There are still days, that I cry. I cry until I can barely breathe. My heart, feels like it will never be whole again. But I have no regrets. I tried my hardest. To keep our family together. To take care of my Daddy. The very best way I could. And to stay positive. Even with death, looming for as long as it did, I was hopeful.

Because that's the thing. When you love so deeply, you always think..."There is a possibility. There can be a cure. There can be a miracle." Your heart is hoping. All while your brain, knows the truth. Your soul, is just trying to get you, through your day. And you never let go of that hope, until the end. I hoped, against all odds, until my Daddy took his last breath.

My Dad spent months...in fact years...fighting to live. For his family. For my Mom. And for me. I know this. He fought, as hard as he could fight. For as long, as he could fight. There were times, when I would think...this could be it. And somehow, he'd pull out of it. A true miracle, of God. In the end, we knew. In our hearts. That the end was nearing.

Like a small child, I'd crawl into bed, with my Daddy. We'd just lay there. Holding each other. Knowing our days, were numbered. Never saying the words. But knowing, just the same. Yearning to spend, as much time together, as possible. Just the two of us. Because that's the bond we had. He was my hero. Always, and forever. And I was his baby girl.

 

For as much as my Daddy believed in me, I believed in him. 100%, 100% of the time! He lived his entire life, to the fullest. He did as much as he could, for as many as he could. He was a rock for his family, a soft spot to land, and a role model...for so many. In life. And now, in death.

And that, is what this journey, has taught me. Cancer is horrible. But it brings with it, so many blessings. That otherwise, you'd be too busy, to notice. For as difficult as this journey has been, I'd never walk away from it. This journey has taught me life lessons. And the important things in life. It has taught me, who I am. Deep in my heart. And my soul. I'm just thankful... ❤❤❤

Don't Forget To Have Fun

Some of the first advice, we ever received, was to have fun. Make time, each week, and have fun. Sounds crazy, when you find out, your loved one is now battling cancer. Stage 4 cancer. But it really was, some of the best advice.

The first oncologist, that we'd meet, would tell us this. He was almost 100% sure, my Dad had cancer. He read his entire medical history, and told me, he was certain. But we'd need a few tests. He also told me, if we had a fighting chance, we couldn't stop having fun. We needed to live life. It would make the battle, worth it in the end.

When those words, come out of your doctors mouth, your not sure what to think. Wait. "Did you say cancer? You want us to have fun? Enjoy life?" It all seems like a blur. Like you are in a bad dream. Maybe you misheard.

But it is the harsh reality. And in all the chaos, that followed my Dad's diagnosis, those were the words I'd remember. So would my Dad. And we'd try to steal those moments. From the cancer. To just enjoy life. To forget about our troubles. And just smile.

It is not always easy. Not when you have doctors' appointments daily. Have nurses coming to your home, 3 or 4 times a week. And don't necessarily feel great. But you have to make the time, to unwind. To enjoy life. To be happy, even for a few minutes.

It's not easy. It was never easy. Ever! Not when life kept kicking us down. But that is when life really begins. When you are taken to the edge, of your comfort zone, and realize what really matters.

In the few days, between my Dad's diagnosis and his surgery, we lived. My Dad wanted to be out and about. So between doctors' appointments, tests, and prep...we would go to the casino, out to dinner, and to his favorite places in town. We'd live.

We were all scared. Nervous. And halfway hoping, this was a dream. But he remembered those words. Go out and have fun. Enjoy life. Don't forget to live. We did it all!

In the weeks that would follow my Dad's surgery, there would be more appointments. More tests. And eventually chemo. But we'd remember to live. And I'm so glad we did! Every other week, was a chemo week. It was also summer. During chemo week, we fought this beast. Head on! Chemo one day. Going home with the pump for two days. Back to have it disconnected. Then we'd go in for hydration, and iron pushes. It would make for a long, and draining week.

It was a grueling schedule. We were limited to activities on chemo day. Mostly because our entire appointment, was nearly 12 hours. Sometimes longer. It just depended. And then, we were not allowed to do anything after, but go home. My Dad was just too "high risk."

But on the days of disconnect, it was an all day affair. My Dad would want to go out. To a late lunch. We'd spend 3 or 4 hours, at Furr's. Enjoying a meal. Talking. Laughing. To anyone watching, they would have no clue, we were fighting for his life.

Every single weekend, and our "off week," were dedicated to living. Having fun. Doing the things, we all enjoyed. Going out to eat, visiting friends, going on road trips, having fun at the casino, just enjoying each others' company. Honestly, we were living by the seat of our pants. It wasn't unusual, to spend 3 hours in a restaurant. Or 8 hours in the casino. Or to wake up in the morning, and decide, we were hitting the road.

Many people, thought we were crazy. We were doing too much. Putting my Dad, through too much. But it's what he wanted. Looking back, I'm positive that he knew, we didn't have much time. And he wanted to fill our time, with love, happiness, and so many memories!
There were countless hours, spent in Old Town. Listening to music. Eating ice cream. And just "being." There were so many, of those "toothy grins." That I miss so much, now. Rarely, did we sleep in. There was just too much life, to live.

My Dad, would later tell me these words. And he made me promise him, never to forget them. To live by them. You see, my Dad worked his entire life. He owned a business, for 45 years. And never retired. He worked hard. So incredibly hard! From 3AM-10PM, daily. He did so much. For so many.

But along the way, he didn't take the time, to really enjoy life. To really enjoy, the fruits of his labor. To really live life. In the last few months of his life, we'd do just that. As much as we could. Whenever we could. For as long, as we could.

We'd steal moments, out of the day. Go and sit at McDonald's, and just be. My Dad would enjoy coffee, chicken nuggets, and a pie. Once in a while, he'd cheat...and have a root beer. Maybe an ice cream. We'd sit and talk for hours. He never really wanted people to know, where we would disappear to. He'd lie to my siblings. And we'd just go and talk.

For sure at this point, I know now, that he knew. He knew his time was limited. That there wasn't much time left, for making memories. For telling his stories. For having fun. Or being my best friend. For being my Daddy.

But the time we had, we enjoyed. Going for long walks, at the old K-Mart building. Sitting inside Ross, and talking. For hours. On the chairs they were selling. Bless those workers' hearts, for letting us do it. We'd go to Sonic, and pick up a strawberry milkshake, for my Dad. Then head to the park. And sit and talk. Sometimes, head to a store, that my Dad had never been to. Look at every single thing. Enjoy a trip to Wal-Mart. To pick up his snacks.

It didn't matter what we did. We tried to have fun. Even if it was at Walgreen's, and we had to wait 2 hours for his prescriptions. We'd look around. Talk. And maybe share a candy bar. Because life was precious. Our time was limited. And we had a lifetime of memories, to create, in a few short months.

I look at these months, as being the most important of my 32 years. I learned so much about my Dad. So much more, than I had already known. So much, about how he wanted to be remembered. What was really important to him. And what his biggest regrets in life, really were. In the end, we had fun. And we ALWAYS carried those words, from our doctor, in our hearts.

In the battle, against cancer, fun is not a word you hear often. It's something, you probably don't want to think of. You can't imagine, how to have fun. How to smile again. How to forget about those 6 letters...that sent your blood cold.

But it's the thing, that is going to carry you along. On the bad days. When you are unable, to move forward. When maybe, the sickness is taking over. Or unfortunately, you can see the end. Those fun days, are going to carry you, when you don't think you can go any further. They will give you the strength, that you need, to move forward.

Even in the hospital, don't forget to have fun. I'd talk to our nurses. And when my Dad, was feeling OK, we'd go on some adventure. The nurses would help me, get him in a wheelchair. And we'd go. Sometimes to look at the Gift Shop. To buy a magazine, look around, or pick up an ice cream. Maybe down to the cafeteria, for a sweet treat. Perhaps to the Chapel, to pray. Or the Family Room, to watch TV. Maybe if it was a really good day, to the Courtyard, outside. To get some fresh air.

But we never forgot, to have fun. To make memories. To steal a fun moment, from the cancer. Even when my Dad was so sick, he couldn't eat, we'd have fun. We'd stay up late, watching movies. In our hospital room. Or talking. Maybe we'd watch some old WWE matches, on my computer.

And later, when movies and TV, didn't interest my Dad. We'd take him a radio. To the hospital. And the two of us, would enjoy music. Dance around. Be goofy. Everyone knew, we were the "party room." We worked hard, against his cancer. But we tried to enjoy, as much life, as we could.

Honestly, as I look back, it gave my Dad strength. It helped him, battle cancer. It made his life, worth living. He didn't care what people thought. Not anymore. He didn't care, how his family looked at him. Or his co-workers. He'd tell me, "What are they going to do? I know where I'm headed. Let's just keep everything on track. It will take care of itself. I have 82 years worth of fun, to live."

And he really looked at life, like this. In his last 3 months. It was "bonus" time for him. He'd battled so much. Cheated death. And it was his time, to enjoy. To really, live life. It's unfortunate, that it took 82 years, to get there. But he enjoyed, those last few months.

My Dad, nor I, cared what people thought. We became best friends, with our local McDonald's workers. They knew what we had, before we walked through the doors. Nurses knew, to have a cup of coffee, waiting for my Dad. With a warm blanket. And maybe a snack.

They all knew, that we'd take goofy pictures. Maybe sing, in the middle of chemo. There was ALWAYS food. And a ton of laughs. Because we had a life, to live. Not every single day was great, or even good, but we made the best out of them.

Even if it was, just the little things. Watching WWE wrestling, enjoying coffee and pie, or just a chat. A heartfelt chat. To tell me, whatever needed to be said. History, stories, or my Dad's final wishes. We did it all, in those final months.

This is something I've thought, my entire life. Objects don't bring happiness. It's appreciating and valuing, what we have, that brings happiness. I could have been bitter. As the caregiver. As the daughter, who was losing her Dad. As the young woman, that would soon, have her world turned upside down.

But that's not the point. It wasn't what my Dad, had taught me. Not so much through words, but through his actions. To value what we had. Our relationship. The memories we were making. The history we had made. No one, could take those away. Or change them. They were mine. And his.

And no matter how unfair, cancer can be, it's up to us...to see the "bright moments," that life gives us. To take advantage, of those few precious moments, to enjoy life. To forget about cancer. To live. And make memories. Most importantly, to spend time with our loved ones.

 

At the time, I didn't realize, just how those ordinary days...would come to mean so much. The little things. The "toothy grins." The shared conversation. Trying out 20 different chairs, in the middle of Ross. Sharing chicken nuggets. Or enjoying a milkshake.

They were ordinary days. Doing ordinary tasks. Trying to get my Dad, to forget just for a second, that he was in his last few days. We didn't go out, to make memories. We went out, to have fun. To enjoy life. And the memories were made. Without much thought. We just made them.

And for anyone that is facing this same circumstance, I'd say these words. "Go out, and have fun. It doesn't have to be some great adventure. Or expensive trip. You don't have to set out, to make wonderful memories. You just need to enjoy life. Enjoy your loved one. The memories, will make themselves. Do the little things. In the end, those are the memories, that will mean the most. The ones, that you will look back, with so much love. The ones, that you will carry in your heart, forever! Don't forget to have fun!" ❤❤❤