The First Man Who Loved Me

Grief is weird, and I've been lucky enough to have never experienced it before; but now at 29 years old I'm floundering through it for the first time. This summer my father was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer, shortly afterwards he had a massive stroke paralyzing his right side. After hearing his prognosis, which was extremely poor, my dad decided to decline treatment and go home. At that time, he was given 4-6 weeks.

Hearing that was devastating, I can remember that night exactly while also not remembering a second of it. I wanted to fight with him, I wanted to beg him to do treatment. To live another six months, but I knew it wouldn't be fair, I knew it would be selfish of me to even speak those words. So I just laid down on his chest, hugged him and asked if I could go home with him.

My sister and I moved up to our family lake house with him and became his full time caregivers. It was a time I'll never forget, there were many good times, as well as a few stressful times. But for the most part, it was extra time with my dad, I got to have many conversations with him that I never would have; I got to tell him how much I love him and what he's always meant to me. However, for some reason, I always wonder if it was enough? If he really knew how I felt, how much I cared about him.

One of my childhood dreams was to have my dad give me away and dance with me at my wedding. My boyfriend and I were planning on getting married in 2017, I was distraught at the thought of knowing who my life partner was, knowing we were going to be married later but not having my dream come true. After much thought and consideration, my then boyfriend and I decided to move up our wedding and get married, leaving us 4 weeks to plan a wedding!

Our wedding was one of the biggest blessings, it gave everyone something to look forward to. A positive blip on our very dreary horizon. It gave everyone a goal to work towards, and there was a lot of work to be done! It did however, make for very confusing emotions. On one hand I was happy and excited about getting married; and on the other I was grieving that my dad was dying. A confliction in emotions I still struggle with daily.

My father knew that I wanted to dance with him, but he was nervous about attempting it in his wheelchair. So we practiced, quite a bit, on his front porch. I have beautiful memories of our practicing, where we're both crying as we "dance". We both knew that was it, this was the last time we would ever dance together again. When it got time for us to dance they day of the wedding, we realized the carpet we were on didn't allow me to push and pull my dad's chair as the slick porch did. My husband, being the amazing man he is, thought quickly and jumped in to help. He pushed my dad around, while I held my dad's left hand and twirled and swayed in front of him. I'm told there weren't many dry eyes, I know mine weren't, neither were my dad's. It wasn't a traditional father daughter dance but I wouldn't trade it for the world.

My father passed away five days after our wedding. Deep down I knew that my father was only hanging on until the wedding, for me, and that he would not be around long after. I half expected him to not be there the next morning; but even still, it seemed so short. I wasn't ready, I had over a month to prepare. But there is nothing to prepare you for having your dad take his last breath with his head in your lap.

A lot of people have said how lucky my sister and I were to have that extra time with him, however during it, I can tell you it did not feel lucky. It felt weird, and awkward, like a large elephant was in the room that no one was addressing. We acted as normal with him as we could, and attempted to give him as much dignity as possible, but you can only do so much of that when someone is paralyzed on half their body. It felt like this long drawn out inevitable ending, like we had just taken a drink from a stranger only to find out it had actually been poisoned. Nothing to do but sit and wait for time to take it's course. However, looking back now I can see that we were lucky, I have no regrets with my relationship with my father . We said the things that needed to be said, we cleared a few things up so there were no questions. I know that when it mattered, when my dad needed me the most, I was there.

I am so thankful that I have found such a wonderful partner who understood the importance of having my dad there at our wedding; someone who was willing to forgo all the dreams of a big traditional wedding, with a honeymoon, and a year long engagement. Someone who was willing to get married in the desert, underneath my childhood tree fort.

I was also blessed with the amount of people who offered to help set up, and who came to the wedding. It was a small intimate gathering, but it was absolutely perfect, and gave everyone a really wonderful last snap shot of my dad. He was very present that day, not letting the stroke stop him from mingling, meeting new people, and generally having a great time. My husband had worried that it would be a sad affair, that what was supposed to be the happiest day of our lives would be overshadowed with my fathers sickness. While there were a lot of tears, and what we knew would be many "lasts" with my dad, there was nothing but happiness and joy while Eric and I tied our lives together. And my dream came true as the man who loved me from the beginning gave me away to the man who has promised to love me til the end.

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#Grief #Dad #Wedding #Husband #Dancing #Loss