On October 13, 2016, I lost one of the most important people in my life. My amazing father. And since then, I’ve changed. I feel like I’ve completely lost myself. I remember being a happy person, smiling no matter what. Always wanting to be around people; my friends. My family especially. These days, I dread leaving my bed. If I didn’t have to work, I would stay in my room for days.
It started in August 2016, after my father had been put on hospice care. It was the worst news because that means it was it. The fight was over and there was nothing else we could do. But being my faithful and religious self, I thought a miracle would happen. We went to the doctor with him to hear it for ourselves. The whole family. He told us two months is all we had left with our dad. Still, I brushed it off. My dad was a fighter, God loved him and our family, a miracle was going to happen. I never accepted the news of my dad’s sickness. Never.
The morning he passed, a social worker came to check in with my sisters, my mom and I. She wanted to see how we were coping with things. I didn’t tell her about how I was getting addicted to percocets, a strong narcotic that made me feel happy during the hardest time of my life. I took them more because I felt emotional pain. I didn’t tell her I smoke weed every chance I get to feel numb, 5-6 times a day. She sat there and explained what was going to happen during his last moments. She said he’ll slowly get cold, his skin will change color, his eyes will go back and the most obvious is that he will be breathing hard and fast, his throat will be making a raspy noise. She said she’d come back to check in after he passes. We had no idea it would be that day.
I was in the shower and I heard multiple knocks on my door, once from my uncle and again from my sister. I hopped out, got dressed and ran downstairs. My dad’s bed was moved to the middle of the room so we could surround him. It was happening. I started crying as soon as I walked in. I went over to him and told him I loved him so much. I stood right next to him, watching his spirit leave his body. At exactly 3:00, he went home.
That day traumatized me. Not only because I saw my father lose his battle to cancer but also because everything I believed for the past 16 months was bullshit. I prayed. I prayed every second of the day. I believed and kept my faith through it all. And I was let down. I question everything now. My faith, my religion. Believing in God was what got me through the hard times. Now I have no idea if he even exists. I hate myself for saying that, but my dad was supposed to be healed and he wasn’t.
I get so jealous when I see people who are way older than me that still have both their parents. I was watching a movie a couple weeks ago, American Beauty. It was about a man who was miserable. He hated his job, his family wasn’t very loving. He just hated his life. He made changes to his lifestyle, his outlook on everything. He finally found happiness. He was happy. In the end, he ends up getting murdered. Not the same situation but my dad was damn near stressed his whole life. He went through hell as a kid and did everything he could to take care of his family. After finally becoming a happy person, a nice person, a person loved by everyone around him, he got sick. His life was cut too short and I will forever by upset. People always say, “time heals everything.” I find it to be the complete opposite. The more time that goes by, the more I realize that this is reality. That I have lived 109 days without my dad. And that I still have a whole lifetime to go without him.
I know he’s up there, watching over my family and I. I know he’s with his parents, his mom who he loved more than anything. And he’s with God, who he couldn’t wait to meet. I hope Heaven is everything they say it is. A place with no pain, where everyone is beautiful and happy. I can’t wait to be there. Can’t wait to see my dad. Can’t wait to hear his laugh and feel him give me one of his comforting hugs. I can’t wait.
Until then, I’ll try to stay strong. I’m doing everything in my power to not break. Whether it’s listening to music, forcing myself to go out, even doing drugs. I’m doing whatever I can to ease the pain. But I promised my dad that I’m going to make him proud. I’m going to finish school like he wanted. I’m going to take care of my mom. And I’m always going to have a relationship with God. Even though I will never understand why it wasn’t in his plan to keep my dad with us.
Rest In Love to the best man I’ve ever known. Love you with all my heart daddy.