June 2014

Dear Daddy,

This was the third Father’s Day without you. I can hear you saying now,“Aye mijita! I’m still with you.” Most of the time, I believe you are still with me because I can feel your presence, especially here at home. But there are times when “knowing” that you are with me isn’t enough. Sometime I feel guilty wishing you were here with me and the kids. We miss you so much. If we could have just one more day with you, but then I remember how much you were ready to go and I stop myself from wishing you were here.I have stopped myself from really remembering and writing about those last few days. It was too painful, but today, I feel ready. Please indulge me in a long letter.
I remember the last few moments of you being somewhat lucid. The night before was the most difficult. You were not yourself. We were losing control of your body and reality. Tita and Manuel spent the night to help me and Donald with the night rotation. That was the longest 24 hours. We were scared for you. You kept trying to get up but your legs didn’t work. We didn’t know your organs were failing. Your will was strong. You seemed to be fighting for the dignity to control your body. Donald and Manuel helped you We even took off the door in the restroom to try to get you in and out. When you finally drifted off into sleep, we could still hear you talking to those who were waiting for you at heaven’s gate.  I wondered if you really saw them, Angel, your 4 year old son who would be a 37 year old man today and Grandma Lala, your mama. Were they calling you home?
The nurse finally made it to the house it the morning and helped us get you cleaned up and medicated. You were in and out of reality. All the girls came over. I honestly can’t tell you who was there. It was all so much of a whirlwind. I know they saw you and wanted to help you and feed you and give you water. I don’t know for sure, but I think they weren’t ready to accept you were actively dying. Your organs were failing and you wouldn’t be with us much longer. If I hadn’t been with you, worrying and watching every detail of this journey beside you, I think I would have not been as accepting of reality as I was. I know they questioned decisions you made and I made, and I would too if I were in their shoes.
I was honored to be there with you. You were never a burden, but the weight of the decisions was a lot to carry alone. Don’t get me wrong, I leaned on everybody I could. We all pitched in to help in our own way. But being the person responsible for your medical care and your funeral plans and your belongings made me feel isolated.
You know I leaned on Donald to help me through. I don’t know what I would have done without him. Mom was a huge help of course. But at times, I did feel overwhelmed trying to balance work and kids and your care. I think back to those days and I don’t even remember the kids. I remember moments and events before your diagnosis and only if I see a picture of them during your treatment do I remember them during that time.
Mona made it to the house that morning to see you. You seemed to be waiting for her. I left y’all alone for a while. I remember walking back in the room and you telling her you “were ready to go.” For a split second, I didn’t want to hear it. I wanted to tell you to fight, to stay with us. But, I had seen you struggle over the last month and come to terms with your decision about your health. I watched you makes lists and try to get your “affairs in order.” I saw you keep a smile on your face in front of visitors, happy to help them feel better about your condition and then cry in despair for  your mama when you thought no one was watching. I saw you wrestle with the demons of your past as you searched for the faith of your childhood. I saw you redeemed when realized God never left you and that he was preparing a place for you in heaven ready to receive you when the time came. I saw you live each day to its fullest, not knowing if that day was going to be your last. You were living and not fearing each day to the end. When you saw the split second look of fear on my face, I could see the doubt you had to leave this world. You reached out your hand to me and asked “You gonna be alright baby? You know what to do?” My heart and soul wanted to scream…“No daddy, I’m not gonna be ok. I don’t know what I’m going to do without out you!!” Instead, I grabbed your hand and said “I’ll be alright. I know what to do. You taught me everything I need to know. We got everything handled. It’s ok to go.” With that, you exhaled for what felt like the last time and said “I’m ready.” I called the nurse in you’re your medication and you drifted off to sleep. You remained unconscious until you died several hours later. I KNOW you are surrounded by love. You are whole and healed and strong and at peace. So, I stop myself for wishing you here with me.

Until we meet again at Heaven’s gate.

Love,

Hope