Never Take Father's Day for Granted

Fathers' day has always been a day I enjoyed. I couldn't always spend it with daddy he lived in another state.

When Fathers day neared, like a kid in a candy store he always asked what are you getting me? I usually got him a DVD, as he loved movies. Action, cowboy and soldier movies were his favorites. The last Fathers day gift I gave him was Donovan's Reef DVD starring John Wayne, he loved that movie.

There were two brothers and myself, I am the oldest. My brother Steve died in 1991 on Thanksgiving; he was a Master Chief in the Navy on active duty. When Steve died, I thought my dad would die too. He couldn't believe that his children could go before him, "It isn't right, I tell you, no parent should out last their children." He said. Depression followed him until he died and he was never the same after Steve died.

I was his baby girl and even though I am older than I want to admit, he always called me baby even when I was reaching the ripe old age of 55.

For a period of about 4 years or so, I had Agoraphobia and couldn't leave my house. Daddy would make the trip to see me once or twice a year even though he was in his late 70's. He didn't understand that new fangled word but he knew that I was sick in some way and he accepted that fact.

A few years later the thing I always dreaded happened. Daddy was in the hospital and was diagnosed with Cancer at the age of 82. I made the trip to the hospital of course, as always he was giving the nurses a hard time when he wasn't flirting with them. I stayed a few days to be with him and my mother who no longer married to him was down the hall suffering from a stroke.

I had to leave and bring my mother from the hospital to live with me so I could care for her.

I knew that my stepmother would take good care of daddy, but the guilt from not being with him when he needed me was almost too much to comprehend.

When he got worse and worse and the chemo wasn't helping, I felt guilty because I was taking care of mama instead of my daddy where I felt I needed to be.

I called every day to find out how he was and how my stepmother was coping. Close to Christmas I called and told him I would be down to see him in two weeks, "Okay, baby I'll wait for you." he said.

The weekend for me to go see daddy, I was sick and since he was on chemo and his blood count was almost nil I decided not to go, as I didn't want to make him worse.

On December 22, I was on the computer when I received an IM. "Diane, daddy is worse and is back in the hospital and I am going there," said my brother, before I could even get in a response I read, "Diane, Daddy is gone."

I just set there looking at the computer and couldn't take it in, the two weeks were up and I had not gone to see him.

My daughter saw the message and started crying and calling her brother and sisters, everyone started gathering at my house. I called my brother and was finally able to find out what happened.

Daddy had sent my step mother home he wanted her to rest. She got no further then two miles when she was called via cell phone and told to come back.

He knew he was dying and didn't want her to be there, he was doing his thing protecting the people he loved to the end. He died before she got back to the hospital.

The funeral was two days after Christmas. I went to the funeral home and went in to see Daddy alone before the wake was officially started. I sat and talked to him for a little while. I told him then, I didn't realize that you meant you would wait to see me two weeks and no longer. What did I expect he was old, miserable and going through unrelenting pain?

"You remember ever since I was a little girl, I told you I would never go to your funeral, daddy, I won't be there; I can't watch them bury you." Those were my final words to him, along with the apology for not being there when he needed me.

I kissed him by and left the chapel. The next day I told my husband to take me home, I just could not go to the funeral.

I am sure that no one understood why I couldn't go to the funeral I couldn't understand it myself. The pain of his dying was killing me and to see him be put under the ground was more then I could handle.

My husband took me home. Days went by and I worried about not being with him to tell him good by on the weekend I was supposed to be at the hospital. I couldn't even cry it was too unreal and the pain of feeling I had let him down was too much for me to bear.

I went through a month or so of not sleeping well and waking up every night. One night I dreamed that daddy came and put his arms around me, he said he loved me.

He was smiling and it was real, I could feel his arms around me. I could feel his lips on my face; he looked so young, strong and happy. He kissed me on the lips and told me goodbye for now. I slept peacefully the whole night.

When I woke in the morning I felt so good, as if I had just won a million dollars. I smiled and hummed as I dressed for the day. I knew in every fiber of my being that daddy came to tell me it was okay. He loved me and understood why I did not attend his funeral. A huge weight was lifted from my shoulders and I was finally able to start the grieving process which we all go through.

Many people won't believe that daddy visited in my dreams but nothing will ever change my mind about that.

Every Fathers day I look at the gifts that are available and I find myself saying, daddy would love this movie, then I remember that this Fathers Day, he isn't here anymore physically.

Never take a minute for granted with your father, love him and cherish him. The time when he is gone will catch up with all of you soon enough, and then it is to late to give him that hug and kiss that is always so special on Fathers Day.

To My Beloved Father who I will always remember as a young vibrant man walking into the movie theater holding a little girl in his arms. I love and miss you.

J.B. Hall

Born August 26 1922

Died December 22 2004

Rest in peace daddy, your work here is done.