Tag Archives: lung

Dear Dad [Rest in Peace]

26 Dec

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Dear Dad,

I called you dad, pa, daddy, Roberto, papa. You called me Michelleeanna, Annie, hot rod…Anner Nanner.

You’ve been the best father that a girl could hope for, and you’ve been with me through every moment of my life, big or small. As we go through your belongings, we find things that bring back the best memories…memories I’ll cherish the rest of my life. You may be gone in body, now, but you’ll never be gone in spirit.

The day of my wedding, you’ll be there.
The day I finally buy a house, you’ll be there.
The day I graduate with my next degree…you’ll be there.

You live on in me and my sister, our mother, and your grand children.

I find solace knowing that you are finally at peace, and that your pain has ended. You fought a good fight, Dad, and I knew that no matter the outcome, the day you told me I’m going to fight this damn cancer  that everything would be okay. And I know that as much as I love you, and I admire you that you love me and are proud of me.

Everything I’ve done until this day, and everything I’ll do in the future is to make you and Mom proud of me. You are such a major part of who I are, and who I’ve become. You’re the fire to my phoenix.

I know that you held on as long as you did for us, to make sure we were ready and that we would be okay once you were gone. Thank you for that. I know it was a hard, long struggle. I know you were worried. But we will be okay. I got to spend one last Christmas with my papa, even if you were only hanging on by a thread, even if you couldn’t sit with us next to the Christmas tree…I got to sing Christmas carols to you, and buy you one last Christmas present, and for that I’ll be forever grateful.

I’ll miss you. I love you.

Give ’em hell, Dad

Rest in Peace
12.26.14
2:19 pm

30 Day Letter Challenge: Dear Person Who Needs to Forgive Me

24 Jun

Dear Person Who Needs to Forgive Me,

In length, my life is remarkably short, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t done my share of things that were probably on the edge of terrible.

There is one thing, that only you and a select other few people know of, until now at least, that I’ve done that I really, really wish I hadn’t.

Maybe not done, maybe just thought or said. 

Every day I wish you would forgive me. It’s been about 15 years, and still, nothing.

When Dad was diagnosed with lung cancer, I so vividly remember the multiple times I thought I’d tell my parents “I told you so” if they got lung cancer. Every time they lit a cigarette, I was so upset. I thought and maybe even said things that I can’t even get up the courage to say now, and I don’t even know if I told them or if I just kept it to myself.

Regardless…no, Dad. I will not say I told you so. I will not rejoice that you may have gotten a lesson for your years of smoking. I will not be happy if you lose the battle.

But if I did tell you when I was so young, you wouldn’t remember anyway. And you wouldn’t even hold a grudge that needed forgiveness.

I would though. So please, forgive me.

Always, Me