It doesn't seem like it... until it does
That's my dad... I was, maybe three. This was at the north pole in Colorado Springs and I'm pretty sure that guy walking by in the foreground was laughing his ass off at my dad.
I'm sharing a picture of my dad because he was a hell of a guy... a guy who was 6'7" of inspiration to his oldest kid. A daughter who can shoot, ride, argue, build, plumb, weld, wrench, hammer, and so much more because her dad taught her some of the best things in life. Those things aren't even on that list...
A daughter with a husband that treats her like a man should because he was a man who treated her mother like a man should. A daughter that misses her father very much and wishes everyday that he was still around to laugh, tell her that she was more than capable of making her own decisions and make a complete ass out of himself just for the hell of it.
My dad passed away this past January at the age of 55. We learned just a year ago (in March of 2012) that his fight with multiple myeloma, which had gone on for 12 years, shifted gears and moved into his pancreas. Such news is the true last call. There is little hope or treatment for pancreatic cancer.
My dad never missed a day of work in his life. He built a weldingbusiness from a teenager, was always his own boss, and worked through every chemo treatment, bone marrow transplant and surgery. My dad had exactly 9 months of retirement; taking a pittance from social security. In that 9 months he tried his hardest to transfer the family business to my brother and impart on him a lifetime of knowledge.
As the oldest, I had more contact with my dad growing up. We were dirt poor and when the oil fields went bust in north texas, my dad took care of me while my mother worked.
I work in an industry that affords the luxury of flexibility; so thankfully I could fly home once a month for a week at a time. Nine visits and the last one had me stay at home for almost two months solid to help my mother.
I was there when he died. I've never watched someone die before. It was so heartbreaking, but absolutely the best thing that could have occurred at the time. To suffer that way is no life. And while I wish that he could still be here, I would not wish the existence he had in the last few weeks on anyone. He showed strength to the end in ways that I hope I never have to.
I'm writing this as a tribute to him and as a remembrance for me. Cancer is no fun road; it inspires me to go to work everyday and face the challenges of the biotech industry head on.
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I have days where I swear he isn't gone.
Thanks for sharing your story . He sounds like he was a terrific mentor and inspiration ...
He may be gone from this life but you will always carry him in your heart with memories like those. May he R.I.P.
What a beautiful tribute to your dad. I know you must miss him, but I am sure he is still with you in one form or another.
He taught you the best things in life. A beautiful tribute to your father Miss Directed.
May the Creator smile on him.
Thanks everyone for reading.
I dont have any regrets about not telling him something or not asking him something... so at least there is that.