I Lost My Father To CancerMy whole life I was a daddies girl. I went everywhere with my dad, and did everything with him. He was my best friend and I could talk to him about anything and everything. I was more close with him, then with my mom. In the summer of 09 my dad started getting sick. He was having problems with him stomach. When he went to the hospital, they didnt do much for him. Gave him some medication, and sent him home. This kept happening for several months. In late october, I was out of town staying with family. I hear my aunt on the phone and it didnt sound good. She came and told me that the doctors think my dad could have cancer. I instantly started crying because I thought my dad was going to die. My family was there to comfort me and support me. I felt a little better when I thought of the word "might". It wasnt for sure. They thought he could have had Crones Disease.
A few weeks later, I was at a friends after school and my dad was picking me up. On the drive home something seemed wrong. He told me that he had cancer. I didnt know what to say or do. I started crying. He told me that he had a dream about an angel coming to tell him that god had bigger plans for him and everything would be okay. My dad wasnt very religious before he got cancer. But his parents were. So he was diagnosed with colon cancer, and soon after he had surgery to take the cancer out. My dad was a police officer, so he obviously had to take time off work. The surgery went well, and he was only suppose to be in the hospital for a week or so. But that wasnt the outcome. He kept getting sick and getting infections. I enjoyed visiting my dad in the hospital and spending time with him there when it was only me. We would go walking around, when he could, and talk. He would ask me about school and other things.
The next year, our lives revolved around the hospital. Me, my mom, and brother went there almost everyday to see my dad. He was in and out of the hospital. He soon became friends with a few of the nurses that took good care of him. It made me happy seeing that my dad was in good hands. My dad was the strongest person I knew, and I thought for sure he would overcome it.
In summer '10, we travelled alot. Went to the lake, went to visit family. I felt so happy being with my family all summer because we were all close. That summer my dad was still sick. He was on chemo therapy. But he did as much as he could. He tried to stay involved with everything. He didnt want any special treatment. Christmas in 2010 is a blur. I remember we went to my grandparents house but that was about it.
In march-april of 2011 my dad was getting more and more sick. At this time I was 15. He was sore everywhere and he was still on chemo. Over the time he was sick, he become more religious. He had a bible by his side in the hospital at all times. He also had this darn journal that he took everywhere with him. If he felt really sick and my mom had to take him to the hospital, he would say "wait I gotta grab my journal". He was always writing in it. I would go to church with my dad every week and it made me feel good knowing my dad and I could bond over something, because my mom and brother didnt go to church. We would go to church, and afterwards we would go eat somewhere. Usually taco time. He would tell me not to tell my mom about going to eat taco time because when we got home she had supper made. Me and my dad had a few little secrets we didnt tell my mom. All of april my dad was in the hospital. While he was there, he would text me while I was at school and tell me to leave school and go see him at the hospital. He would call my school to excuse me, and I would take the bus to the hospital. By this time I knew how to take the bus there because we did this a lot. I would stay there all day with him. Sometimes we would turn the lights off, and nap. I would put a few chairs together and lay down. We never told my mom because she would be mad if she found out I was skipping school. But my dad was more important to me then school.
We found out that my dad had more cancer. Under his shoulder, behind his eye, and the whole lining of his skull. The doctors said there was nothing that they could do for him and he had about 6 months to live. I was in denial for a while. I thought " my dad is the strongest person in the world and he can over come it". In the beggining of may, my dad had more and more family come to visit him. He had family travelling from out of province to come see him. One monday while I was at school, my mom texted me and said my dad was doing good. I instantly left school and took the bus to the hospital. When I got there, my dads siblings were there, his parents, and some of his family. He didnt look that bad to me. But the cancer inside his body was taking over. The doctors said we should try spend as much time as we could with him.
That whole week I stayed at the hospital. I slept there, ate there. I only went home for a half hour to shower and change my clothes everyday. That wednesday, the doctors called a family meeting, They said that he was in very bad shape and had less then 48 hours to live. That is when reality sunk in. All I could do was cry. I had mixed feelings. I was mad that the doctors couldnt do anything for him. I wanted to yell and say there must be something you can do. At this point is when there was family constantly at the hospital. It was time for everyone to say goodbyes. My mom said to my dad " Taylor's birthday is on monday". My dad looked at me and quietly said " Happy birthday". I had tears in my eyes because I knew he wasnt going to be here. I told my dad that I loved him with all my heart. He would only nod because he didnt have strength to talk. The next day, a thursday, I stayed in the room all day. I realised that the following monday, was my birthday. I would be turning 16. But I didnt care. I sat beside my dads bed and held his hand as people came in and out. He was no longer on an iv. He couldnt talk, eat, or drink anything. His breathing was shallow and slow. I rested my head on his bed because I felt tired. I didnt want to leave his side. I would secretly go to the bathroom and cry because I didnt want to see my dad suffer anymore. The nurses put a bed outside of the room for some of us to lay on because we wanted to be close. I thought I should try get some sleep, so I layed down, and dozed off. At 4 am, the nurses woke my mom and I up, and said that he was going. I got up, and sat there. I was too scared to go in. I didnt want to see my own dad slip away. I didnt want to see the life be taken out of him. My uncle came out of the room and said " hes gone.". I didnt know what to do. I couldnt feel anything. I felt numb. I couldnt think, or speak, or move. I eventually burst into tears.
The rest of that day, and the next few to follow are a blur. I just remember that there was alot of people at our house all the time. It felt good because I didnt want to be alone. Our house smelt like a greenhouse.
My dad passed away on friday, at 4am. The following Monday was his funeral. The way it worked out, his funeral had to be on my birthday. I was a little sad because I didnt want my birthday to be a day that wasnt a day to celebrate. As I mentioned before, my dad was a police officer, so there was going to be a big ceremony for him. I woke up, and got dressed. My mom, my brother, my cousin, my aunt, and I all went over to the funeral home. The funeral director explained to us how everything was going to work. The funeral home wasnt far from the police station. Maybe 3 or 4 blocks. So there was going to be a march for my dad from the station to the funeral home. We went over to the police station to get things started. The immediate family was driven there by the limo provided by the funeral home. As we were turning the corner to the police station, the funeral director told us to look up ahead and we would see all the police officers marching around the corner. I waited, and looked up the street. There was hundreds of police officers marching. In the front was drums and bag pipes. I could not believe what I was seeing. All these people came to honor my dad. I just stared, and didnt say anything. When we got to the station, my brother and I got out. My brother was the Badge barrier, and I was the hat Barrier. A police officer handed my brother my dads badge on a pillow, then handed me my dads hat on a pillow. There was two police officers on motor cycles in the front, then my brother and I. Behind us was the hurse, which inside my dads casket was covered by the canadian flag. Behind the hurse was the limo with my mom and my dads parents inside. Behind them was the police officers and marching band. The marching band played, and we began to walk. Every car that was on the street was towed away before the ceremony, so the streets were cleared. I started crying because I felt so proud to be my dads daughter. I pulled myself together because there was alot of people on the sidewalks watching. It was windy out, but sunny. I looked at the sun and I started crying. I knew that somewhere my dad was watching. In a weird way, I think that my dad had planned out for his funeral to be on my birthday. So that we could share a special day together. I will never forget my dad. He was the bravest, funniest, and most caring person I knew. He put everyone before himself. His legacy and memory will live on forever. He will always be in my heart. Rest in peace