My Father

On December 3rd, 2011 my father's battle with cancer ended, he died at the age of 50.

He informed us in the spring time of his condition and that it was terminal. Part of me didn't want to believe him, seeing as how he had defeated cancer twice before. Part of me understood that he had taxed his body through out the years from smoking and we would need a miracle.

On December 2nd I sat by his bed side, held his hand and wept. His body had regressed to a semi-vegetable state of suffering. He had lost a considerable amount of weight, he couldn't breath clearly, he couldn't control his body and he could not speak very well.

As a boy I always thought my father was the toughest man alive, as most boys do, and for the first time I saw how weak he had become. Thousands of thoughts ran through my head as I sat with him. He would never see my brother or sister graduate high school. He wouldn't be able to walk my sister down the aisle. My boys would grow up without a grandfather, just like I did.

For the first time in my life I understood what sorrow felt like.

My father had meant a lot to me. Over the past few years we had grown closer. Far closer than we had ever been. He opened up a lot to me after my parents divorce and shared a side of him I had not seen before. We had started saying "I love you" again something we hadn't done since I was a boy, as well as were more affection towards each other. I remember telling Sam after we hugged one day that I couldn't remember the last time we had hugged - something I now deeply regret not doing as a teenager and young adult. This was a lesson I learned that I will remember when my boys are teenagers and young adults, always show this affection and always tell them how much I love them and how proud of them I am. Even now when my oldest boy, Noah, goes potty in the "big boy" potty he'll say, "daddy so proud of you," because he knows how proud of him I am.

The verse that has taught me through out this process is Psalms 90:12 "So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom." Life is short. My father had 50 years, his father had even less. I want to number my days so that my days have value and so that my heart has wisdom. This process has taught me a lot on fatherhood. I have seen how much responsibility I have as a father and how important it is as a father to leave your children with an inheritance.

The last thing I had ever told my father was how much I loved him and how proud of him I was for fighting as long as he possible could have fought. Though he could not do much, he found the strength to tell me the most important thing a father can tell his children, I love you.