Gone

My Daddy is gone. He died last Thursday, two days after my last post. He passed away peacefully in home hospice care after receiving visits from friends, family and phone calls from his cousin, my mom and myself. He was 62. Lung cancer took his life so quickly--he was diagnosed when I was in my first trimester and here I am about to deliver and he is already gone. He was doing well on chemo--it was working--the cancer was shrinking and then out of nowhere, the cancer grew, then spread and within 2 weeks of us knowing the chemo stopped working, he died. I feel so much sorrow that I didn't travel to see him to say goodbye, but we did Skype and I know he knew it was me, although he was unresponsive by then. The vision of him lying in the hospital bed, puffy, unable to speak is one I wish I didn't have in my brain. I know he is in a better place and his suffering is over. But I have such enormous grief and sadness, I don't really know what to do with these emotions.

I have been completely overwhelmed by the level of support I am receiving from family and friends. Every single email message, sympathy card, handwritten letter and phone call is so very appreciated. Although I feel so much sadness, I have truly never felt so loved and supported by so many people. It is truly amazing when I stop and think about it.

I listened to his funeral via telephone and I wanted to share the letter I wrote that was read at his service:

It is my sincere regret that I am unable to attend my dear father's funeral services. He meant the world to me and I will miss him every day for the rest of my life. I made a promise to him that I would make sure that his granddaughters will know him through photos, stories and his legacy will live on in them. I am so grateful that he walked me down the isle at my wedding and had fun times with Lana and I feel so much sadness that he never got to experience the joy of holding his second granddaughter who is yet to come. When I think of all the experiences he will never share with my family, my heart is truly broken.

Dad was such a warm and sincere person. He was also wickedly funny and laid back. My dad used to love to read books to me when I was little and thought nothing of spending hours lying on the floor coloring pictures of all things girly. He was such an attentive father--the kind of father who was destined to have a daughter, just because he was so good at it. He was always my biggest supporter in life--taking such pride in my accomplishments and hugging me close during life's disappointments. He was never critical or judgemental. He taught me how to play tennis, how to drive and how to cook. He loved a fancy supermarket almost as much as I do. Any struggles that we had as a family when I was growing up were always overshadowed by the love we felt for one another, his sense of humor and the appreciation we had for simple things.

So much of who I am as a person has been influenced by my dad. But it has become evident over the last several days that I am not the only one. I have easily 100 messages from people who knew my dad, some recently, some from years ago with general heartfelt comments about Dad's character and some with very specific memories of him. One friend said that he was a sincere, humble and gentle person who touched anyone who had the pleasure of meeting him. Another said that he will always remember my Dad's corn chowder, love of Pink Panther movies and his uniform of a sweatshirt, jeans and slippers.

I am so grateful that my dad found love again in his life. He loved you Martie and you gave him so much joy and a renewed sense of purpose. He often talked about how blessed he was to have a second chance at love and how lucky he was to be surrounded with a great big family and many loyal friends who accepted him like he had always been there.

My dad is so special to me, but I know he is special to so many people. I am so comforted to know he is no longer suffering, that he is in a better place, reunited with his parents. Although right now my frief is infinite, he will always be with me in my heart.

As if the past week wasn't interesting enough, as I went to my routine OB appointment, he found I was measuring small and sent me for an ultrasound. The ultrasound revealed that my amniotic fluid was very very low. I was admitted to L&D and monitored for a few hours. This was the very day my Dad passed away. I was released and told to hydrate like crazy, rest and come back for another test 48h later. I did hydrate and we all worried and then I went back and my fluid levels were normal--not just normal, but on the high side of normal. My OB determined it was probably the ultrasound tech's inexperience and I got an abnormal result by mistake. Whatever the case is, I cannot believe how one little human error could cause so much stress and worry to us at a time when we were already stressed and worried to the max. I'd like to think it was my Dad's (or God's) way of alleviating my guilt for not traveling, but the truth is that its probably just a weird coincidence.

Now we have the task of getting ready for this new baby. I have kind of let go of a lot of my expectations for a good breastfeeding experience and hoping she is not colicky, etc. I just want a healthy baby and all the rest we will just figure out. I know my Dad is still with me--in my heart, in my girls. I can feel his presence, as corny as that sounds. I know that grieving is a process and I am only at the beginning, but we will get there. I have a wonderful support system and a new baby to welcome into the world.

What the fuck is wrong with the font colors? This is so distracting, but I don't have the energy to fight with it anymore--damn you blogger.