That's a lot of days.
11 years of days to be exact.
4018 days without my dad.
4018 days since I last saw him alive.
4018 days since I stayed up all night with him. My sister asleep on the floor. My mother asleep beside him. Me, sitting next to him. Watching him breath. Watching him struggle to breath. Shooting him up with morphine each time I felt like he was struggling too much. Too much for him to bear. Too much for me to bear watching.
I sat there and watched him die. If you have never seen this happen, it's a hard experience to describe. Of course I was horribly sad. But, at the same time I was at peace with it. I wanted him out of his suffering.
He had a tumor cut out of his brain. Yet, he got back up kicking. Only a few weeks later he walked my sister down the aisle. We didn't think he'd be alive to be there, and, if so, certainly not walk. You want to see me cry streams of tears? Standing at the alter watching my dad walk my sister down the aisle? Forgeddaboudit.
The cancer just wouldn't give up. Along with his brain, it strangled his lungs. It ravaged his body. Then, it took his leg. But, my dad NEVER gave up. Ever. Even that last night he was fighting.
I don't think it was until I whispered in his ear late that night that it was ok to go that he actually let go.
Those were perhaps the hardest words I've ever spoken. But, probably the words most filled with love I've ever spoken as well.
4018 days since I held his hand as he took his last breath.
96,342 hours.
5,785,920 minutes.
Without my dad.
I still miss him so.
Today is always a hard day.
And, damnit, I'm out of waterproof mascara.
suck it cancer.
