A Heartbreaking Year

Today marks, one year, since we said goodbye to my Daddy. It's a tough day. Images of that day, flash through my head. I could give you, the play by play, of every detail. How I laid with my Dad, in bed, early in the morning. How he didn't want to be alone, all day long. How he ate, an entire container, of applesauce. How we just talked. And held hands.

My Dad was able to thank our nurse, Robin. It was his way, of saying goodbye. He appreciated everything she had done for him. It was the only goodbye, he said that day. My Dad had a visit, from his favorite little buddy, Jaelyn. And I saw the pain in his eyes, when he looked at her. Knowing, it was the last time. She was not afraid that day. Like she had been, over the last few days. They wanted to hug. They needed it. And it was heartbreaking.

I could tell you, about the look in his eyes. How he knew, he was going. And he didn't want people to know. How he kissed my Mom, when she left for work. And didn't really want her to go. But he also didn't want her, to see what was going to happen next. He loved my Mom so much, he didn't want her, to have to see him suffer.

I could tell you, about all of it. How we read the bible. And then, he got sick. How I beat the ambulance, by over a half an hour. To the hospital. And I'd later find out, they had pulled onto a side street, to try and revive my Daddy. They respected us both, so much, they didn't want me to see. They tried everything they could, to keep my Daddy alive.

The feeling of helplessness, I felt. The heartbreak. As I sat in the waiting room, alone. Making the plea, to everyone on Facebook, to just pray. Having to send my Mom, the message. That this time, was urgent. And having to walk into that ER room, and know, he was leaving me. That I would spend, the rest of my life, without my rock. My Daddy, was not going to see me get married. Or know my babies. There would be no more long talks, and silly smiles.

The feeling of emptiness, when my Mom would walk in the door. And see my Dad. How he couldn't breathe. The gurgling he was making. The panic in his eyes. And the heartbreak, every single time, he'd look at us. He didn't want to leave us. He loved us, so very much.

This time, the ER was a scary place. My Dad struggling, to breathe. The nurses running in and out of our room. Panicked. Trying to clear my Dad's airways. The alarms, going off, on all his machines. The panic, in every single person's eyes, that came into the room. Watching my Mom's heartbreak, through her eyes. Watching my Dad. I could see how scared he was, through his eyes.

It killed me, to know, I couldn't fix this. The doctors, could no longer help him. I knew this. And hearing the words, come out of the doctors mouths, didn't make it any easier. Watching my Mom, was beyond heartbreaking. For weeks, I'd known that this time was coming. For days, I could sense it. But my Mom, she was being hit, by all this news. All at once.

And that feeling, when his doctors came to talk to us. We all knew what was happening. There was nothing left to do. They had tried everything. It was my Dad's wishes. And they'd respected them. But there was nothing left to do. They could make him comfortable. But they assured us, he wouldn't make the night. It was time to call our family and friends.

I immediately walked out to the hall. Called our nurse, Robin. Who offered to come and stay with us, at our home. Then she realized the situation. And offered to help us, in any way that she could. I called and called, for our priest. I knew, my Dad wanted him there. I made calls to my aunts, uncles, friends, siblings, and so many family members. It was time, to say our goodbyes.

But when I think about today. And just how tough it is. How tough, this entire week has been, I remember my Dad's words. "Don't cry for me. Celebrate my life. Remember me, with a smile. Not tears. I'll always be with you. In your heart. I'll catch you when you fall. You'll never be alone. But don't cry. I hate to see you cry. Remember the happy times. All the love we have. All the time we shared. The memories we made. Make my life, have meaning. The struggles, were worth it. Remember me with a smile, not with tears."

And that's what I want to do. I want to remember his smile. The toothy grin, that I love so much! How even my Dad's eyes, would light up, when he smiled. That's what I want to remember. Not the details of that day. Not the heartbreak. And the helplessness, that I felt. Not watching, the doctors and nurses, for hours...trying to help him breathe.

If you want to read my Daddy's obituary, you can go here. But I wanted to share, more about the man, behind Love for Blue. I want to share some stories with you. About the man, I love. The man I call Daddy. And the man, who has shaped me, into the woman I am today.

My grandpa, past away in December 2013. And I was asked, to say his eulogy. Not something I ever imagined, that I would be doing. But I was close to my grandpa. And no one else, was able to get up there, and talk about him.

Little did I know, it would be something, that I'd need. To prepare me, for what would come, 15 months later. I'd be saying the eulogy, for my Dad's services. And I would need the experience, from my grandpa's services. I needed the experience, to be able, to do the most difficult thing in my life.

Actually, in October 2014, my Dad asked me to start writing it. Even he knew, no one else, would be able to get up there...and talk. To tell his story. To deliver his eulogy. And tell everyone, about his life. But I refused to do it. Pretty much like my grandma's request. Shortly after my grandpa's passing, she asked me to write hers. So she could read it. I just couldn't imagine it.

In reality, I tried. Many times, to write my Dad's eulogy. In fact, in the hospital, late at night...I'd pull my laptop out. No words would come. I could manage to make notes. About what I wanted to talk about. Notes about stories, I wanted to share. And notes, about songs I felt, told my Dad's story.

But that's as far, as I ever got. In December 2014, when my Dad was hospitalized, I remember opening those files again. Late at night. A day or so after Christmas. Trying to bring myself, to write something. Instead, I watched my parents sleep. In our hospital room, I just couldn't put those words, out there. It made our situation, too real.

Again, just a few weeks later, I'd attempt it. My Dad was hospitalized, over his birthday. And honestly, we just weren't sure if he'd make it. Actually, I'd already had a total breakdown, with one of his doctors. And the amazing Ms. Mary. My Mom and I, had already been summoned to a meeting with the Hospice Team. I knew what was coming. So did my Dad.

I think he knew, that I couldn't get the words out. Because it would make our situation, too real for me. We would talk about it, though.  He would tell me, what he wanted said. And told me, he'd leave the rest up to me. That was not quite, a month before his death. We would spend an entire night, laying in his hospital bed, crying. And talking.

And after my Dad's passing, it was the one thing, I struggled most with. I sat many times, in front of my laptop. Spent many nights, awake. Trying to get the words to come. Eventually, I let myself completely fall apart. One night, at 1AM. While my Mom slept. I sat in one of my Dad's school buses, and cried. And I wrote his eulogy.

Once the words started, they just couldn't stop. I was wrapped up, in one of my Daddy's old shirts. Sitting in his bus. Holding his rosary. And the words, just poured out of me. 10 pages later, I felt like his story was told. From his words. From his daughter's words. And through music.

On the Friday night, of my Dad's rosary, I needed some time, for myself. I excused myself, from the receiving line, 5 minutes before the services were to start. And I stood in the back of the church. Praying. Our favorite priest, would come back with me. And say a little prayer too. I felt like I was ready, to tell Blue's story.

After hearing Forever and Ever, Amen. I wasn't so sure. I wasn't sure, that these words I'd written, were right. As I walked up to the podium, I decided, to talk from the heart. I had some notes, tucked away, behind the eulogy. And that is what I'd would go off of. I'd speak from the heart, about my Daddy.

The next morning, I planned to read his eulogy, I had prepared. At my Dad's funeral. Before my Dad's services started on Saturday morning, I checked in with everyone. I'd talk to the musicians. And I'd make sure our pallbearers were OK. I'd make sure the boutonnieres, were handed out. I'd talk with the funeral director. And our priest.

Lastly, I'd get our items together, that we were placing with my Daddy. The pictures my Mom and I, had picked out. The prayers, saints, and cards I'd picked out. And the notes, my Mom and I, had written to my Dad. Our family would line up, and we'd say our last goodbyes.

I'd let the tears, silently, roll down my cheeks. Not able, to hold them back any longer. And I'd hold my Daddy's hands, for the very last time. The hands that had worked so hard, to provide for me. The hands that had disciplined me, for years. And the hands, that have loved me, for my entire lifetime. I'd kiss my Daddy's forehead. And I  knew, those prepared words, once again were not right. Again, I'd speak from the heart. Knowing what my Dad wanted to be shared. I'd let my heart and soul, do the talking.

And I'd tuck those words away. I wouldn't share them, that day. My family wouldn't hear, the words, I'd cried over. My friends wouldn't get to hear the stories. But I'd find the strength, to post them on my blog. The blog, that was telling our story, as it was happening. In real time. I'd share my stories, with these people, that were following our story.

A year ago, I promised myself, and my Daddy...that I'd share those words. One day. When the time felt right. When I could share, what had come to me, that night. Over the next week, I'll be posting my Daddy's eulogy. Here. I'll be telling his story. Sharing my memories. And hopefully, inspiring you. Please come back and read it.

I've not shared these words, with any of my family or friends. Not even my Mom. The time, just didn't feel right. But now it does. And along with all of you...my Mom, our family, and our friends will get to hear the eulogy I had prepared. Thank you, for all of your support, love, and prayers. It really has meant so much to me. And has carried me, on the days I've struggled most. Today, marks one year. It doesn't make my heart, hurt any less. But it is a day that should be celebrated. Like my Daddy's life, should be celebrated. It is, what he wanted.

This blog, is written, by a real person. By a woman, that has walked a tough journey, with her Daddy. We didn't win, against the beast, known as Colon Cancer. But I promised my Dad a lot, during his last few months. And one of those things was, to share our story. As tough as it may be. As many tears, as I shed, while writing some of these posts. I don't want our journey, and story, to go without sharing.

As much as I want to be your cheerleader, through your dark days. I also want to share, our toughest and darkest days. To let you know, you are not alone. There are others that came before you. There will be more, that come after you. And this journey, has changed me as a person. I want you to know, about the good days. And how chemo and radiation, gave us a little more time. And I want to share, this part of our story, as well. The part, that makes tears well up, in my eyes. That makes me feel like a 3 year old, little girl once more. I want you to know, we have tough days too.

Many people, going through this journey, will eventually find themselves here. At this part of the journey. It's why, we are trying so hard, to fundraise. We want to find a cure. To help another family, avoid this heartbreak. Until that time, I want people to know, death doesn't always have to be a horrible experience. It's not the end. And our loved ones, really have gone to a better place...with the Lord.

I'd give anything, to still have my Daddy. Really, I would! But I don't want his pain and suffering, to be minimized. To be forgotten. That every single thing he went through, wasn't in vain. That there was a purpose, behind his struggles. And more than anything, I want to help people realize, grief doesn't have to be a bad thing. Tears shouldn't be hidden. More than anything, our loved ones, deserve to be celebrated. And today, that is what I'll be doing. Celebrating the life my Daddy lived. The life he gave everything too. And lived, to it's fullest! I LOVE AND MISS YOU DADDY!

You see, my Daddy, was my life. He is the one person, that never judged me. That loved me, completely and unconditionally. And would have given anything, to see me succeed in life. What my Daddy didn't realize was, he was my role model, my hero, and my Superman. I learned more from his actions, than I will ever learn, from any other person. Or from any book.

From the time I was born, I was his morning glory. And he was my sunshine. I'd spend 31 years, taking care of my Daddy. After seizures. Through illness. And when the cancer, was finally found. He'd spend, his lifetime loving me.

During our time together, my Dad was my anchor. He encouraged every single thing I did. Music, education, cheerleading, crafts, and my life. He would push me, way outside my comfort zone. My Daddy would take me to school, every single day. And pick me up, in the afternoon. That time in his truck, was some of the most precious, we ever shared. It is where, we'd become best friends.

My Dad would ask about my day. He was completely interested, in what I was doing, learning, and who I was meeting...along the way. My Dad was encouraging. He was loving. And he was strict. My Dad would spend much more time, than most, in his truck. Taking me to violin lessons, music rehearsals, cheerleading practice, shopping for costumes, and just hanging out. My Dad, never really told me, that he loved me. But he showed me, in more ways, than I can count.

When I lost my Daddy, there was no goodbye. He never wanted to say those words. He told me that, the day he was diagnosed. It was that day, that I realized, how much I was losing. My Daddy, was much more than a father. He was my best friend. The person, I had leaned on, most in life. It was that night, that I realized how much, my Daddy had taught me.

So many people have asked me, "How did you do it? How did you take care of him, for so long? How are you doing it now?" And the only answer I can really give is, he loved me. And I loved him. My entire life, my Dad taught me, how important it is...to take care of "your people."

That is how I did it. I couldn't imagine, turning my back, on my best friend. The man, that worked until his hands bled. So he could provide me with a home, food, and my necessities. The same man, that worked from 3AM-9PM. So I could play the violin, go to Nationals, and have every single book...I ever wanted as a kid.

But it was more than that. It was the years, of cuddles. The strong hugs, when I'd had a bad day. The supportive talks, when I was struggling. It was afternoons, filled with laughter and smiles. It was the years and years, filled with my Dad, being my Dad. Bringing me a Happy Meal, to school, every single day...until I got to middle school. It was my Dad, spending countless hours, listening to my screeching violin. And encouraging it all. It was the countless games, that he found himself at. Because his daughter, was a cheerleader.

It was the 3AM calls. From a tired daughter, who was away at college. That he always started with singing, You Are My Sunshine. It was for the Daddy, who ALWAYS came to my rescue. For the man, who enjoyed spending countless hours, at McDonald's drinking coffee, eating nuggets, and talking.

I did it for the man, that gave his entire life, to me. Who made me feel, like the most important person, in the world. Just because I am Desiree. My Dad had a way of doing that. And we spent so much time together. Making so many memories. That I couldn't turn away.

And as much heartbreak, and heartache, as I've felt...I'd never do it any differently. I'd stand by his side, his decisions, and requests...a million times. My Dad, worked his entire life, for others. And this was the least, I could do for him. On the toughest of days, I'd remind myself, of the hours he spent working. In the dead of summer, his coveralls, covered in grease...providing for his family. Never too busy, to stop and answer my questions. To buy me an ice cream. Or to give me one, of those big bear hugs.

Since my Dad's death, I think back to my childhood. The years, when I'd sit, and just watch my Daddy. Bleeding hands, sweat pouring off his head, working so hard. And I know, without a doubt in my head, he loved me. The material goods that he provided, were nice. But that is not the important thing. It was the time, he spent with me. The memories we made. The stories we shared. The wisdom, he gave. And the security, that he always brought to my life. It was his kindness. And his love.

That's how, I got through the tough days. It was the love my Dad, had always shown me. The kindness. The tenderness. He shaped me, to be this woman. Never realizing, one day, I'd be taking care of him. That's the way life goes. We don't always understand it. And honestly, it can be difficult at times. But we make that full circle. And suddenly, everything falls into place.

This journey, has changed me, forever. But it didn't start, with a cancer diagnosis. It started, when I was born. With a man, that gave everything he had, to his family. He taught me, by example. He nurtured me. And gave me the strength, that I'd one day need.

Take the time, to love, those around you. To show them, how much, they really mean to you. Don't tell them with words. Show them with actions. Mold your children, into the people, you want to see in the world. Take the time, to make memories. And to be silly.

I never imagined, that at 31, I wouldn't have my Daddy. He would no longer, be at my side. But he is still teaching me, the lessons of the world. Showing me love. And making me a stronger woman. I don't have anyone, to take to McDonald's, for hours long talks. I don't have anyone to call at 3AM. Or anyone to watch wrestling with. No one to take to the Casino. Or to cut up apples for. I don't have anyone to talk about the world with. Or to help me, dream big dreams.

But I do have an angel. Watching over me. Every single day. Comforting me, when I need it most. I have a lifetime of memories. And a faith, that one day we will be reunited. I have an angel in Heaven, and I call him Daddy... ❤❤❤

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!" ❤❤❤