6

Dad-

Six months ago today, we lost you.

You slipped away from us in the morning, as I was sleeping.  Sara rushed to the room I was in and woke me up- "Allie. You need to get up. Dad just died."

I woke up, dazed, freaking out, and took the few steps it took to get to your room, where we all sat and cried.

You looked more peaceful than I've seen you in years.

It couldn't have been easy, going like that.  Gasping for air like a fish out of water, relying on dozens of pills a day just to keep your pain at bay and your body functioning (if that's what you want to call it).

The last conversation I had with you is kind of a blur.  I had a nasty cold, and you were coming in and out of consciousness.   You took off your oxygen tubes and offered them to me because you heard me coughing.  I laughed and said "no, I don't need them" and you asked why- "because I have a cold, and you have lung cancer, dad."  You smiled, put them back on, and fell asleep briefly again.

The next morning was the hardest morning of my life.  Doctors and nurses came in and out of the house, along with the closest friends we had, offering us more love and support than we could have ever asked for.  I stood in the kitchen as they brought what was left of you downstairs.  I didn't want my last sight of you to be your lifeless body going into a car that was headed to a funeral home.

The rest of the day whizzed by, but it felt like the longest day ever.  We couldn't believe it actually happened.  We were expecting it within the week or so... but I was still shocked to lose my daddy.

Thank you for being the backbone of our family, keeping us together when we needed you most.  You have lit up the lives of most people who have met you.

Thank you for being the best Dad us girls could have ever asked for, and the greatest G-pa, and the greatest husband.

You are missed like crazy, but we are learning how to stand on our own two feet again.  It sucks not being able to call you on the phone, or go visit you in your room when I come home for the weekend, or write you a dumb letter anymore.  But I'm learning.

I love you, Dad. Plus one.
-Miss A