Daddy

 He was a big man, not real tall- only around 5'11 but larger than life. The life of the party- the positive influence and my cheerleader. He was the superHERO in my life- my life preserver- my advisor. He thought I was the all that end all. His baby girl. In fact that's what he called me my whole life- Baby girl.  Him and Mom adopted me when I was 6. They had had me since I was a baby, 5 months old, but went through the courts and got papers signed so I was theirs before I entered school.  I then started calling him Daddy. I wasn't an easy teenager- I was rebellious and mean sometimes, and I often wondered later how they could just love me through it. But they did, him and Mom.  Dad took care of everything. When I was upset I called him, when I broke down in my car I called him, when a guy stranded me and Earl one night past midnight I called Dad. He was always there, always helping always the calm in the storm.  When my husband had a heart attack at 36 the first thing I did was call him "Daddy" I cried and he was on his way.  When he got sick in 2003 we were at a loss to what was wrong. He started losing his appetite and dropping weight. He went from 250 down to 140 in less than two years. Doctors and Hospitals couldn't tell us what was wrong. They did tests and examinations until he was weak and tired and finally a bone marrow revealed he had Amylodosis- a very rare but deadly disease- it was too late. The prognosis came too late and he was too tired. He was diagnosed in August 2005 and by October he could barely get out of bed. I took FMLA so I could be there- they had moved to my little town when he started getting sick, so they lived across the bridge from me and me and Mom took care of him. I remember those last weeks as he lay in his swing, his feet in my lap and told me he was ready to go, ready to meet Jesus.  We weren't ready to let him go. I told him no he could get stronger- He said "I love you baby girl. Take care of your Mom." I cut his fingernails and he told me how proud he was of me as a mother and wife and daughter. How much he loved his grand children. That last sunday I leaned down to kiss him goodnight and he said "I'm tired baby girl. It will be ok." But we still denied it, still hoped, still clung to his strength. But he didn't speak any more. For three days we stayed by his side praying  and he took his last breath on a wednesday and was gone. I was alone with him in the room, holding his hand when the life went out of him. I cried out for Mom but it was too late.  He had left us and I just sat there for a long while, holding on to his hand until the home care nurse came and asked me to let him go. My mom needed me. I heard someone say once "I don't know how to be in this world without my Dad" and I knew what that meant. Losing anyone is hard, but losing a parent, a child, a spouse is devestating to the point where you wonder how do you go on?  I walked around in a daze for so long, and Mom and I were both in such mourning we could barely comfort one another. Even now, almost 5 years later my heart hitches and tears gather when I talk about him. I miss him, but my Mom- she missed him even more.