Dad.

"It was my father who taught me to value myself. He told me that I was uncommonly beautiful and that I was the most precious thing in his life." ~ Dawn French

Around this time I was entering middle school, and I was also going through what you might call an “ugly duckling” phase. I was very awkward. I was tall, I was very very skinny, I had braces, I was very clumsy with big feet, and I never wore makeup. I was always enrolled in every club our school had to offer.

Everyone knows that sometimes kids, especially middle schoolers can be very heartless at times. I would often get teased about my sick father. If my Dad ever took me to school, they would yell hurtful things at him. They even put notes in my locker, with drawings of my Dad with tubes everywhere and blood running from his head... just horrible horrible things. My Mom was a library teacher at my school and sometimes I would run to her crying.

One day, when I was in 9 th grade, they paged me to the office to let me know my father was back in the hospital. When I arrived at the hospital, his Dr. spoke directly to me and informed me that his cancer had returned as a tumor in his brain and they were going to do immediate surgery. They told me he may not make it through the procedure and to be prepared for anything. They told me to go say goodbye just in case. I went in there and he said,” Don’t listen to those dorks, I’m not dead yet!!haha!!” He made it out of surgery just fine. But the tumor had taken over the part of his brain that controls the movement in your arms and legs, so the entire right side of his body was affected in the way a stroke affects someone. He walked with a limp and couldn’t perform with his right arm or hand any longer. No more Harley rides or guitar playing. Another year went by and one night, he and I were watching a movie and he fell on the ground convulsing. He was rushed to the hospital again, this time, there was nothing they could do. His brain was officially a mass of cancer. It was everywhere. In his throat, in his arms…everywhere. The Dr. suggested Hospice care. This is a home where a terminally ill person can go to feel comfortable until they pass away. My mother and I stayed by his side until the end. I was there with him almost every day, even when my mother had to go to work. My teachers allowed me to do my schoolwork on a laptop they provided for me so that I could stay with him. One night in March of 2003, my Dad passed away. Several days before my father had passed away, my Great grandmother, Mamo, passed away from pneumonia. We were very close with her as well; she was 93 and lived a good long life. My father was too young in my opinion. I always thought my Dad would live to be 100. Especially after the countless blood transfusions, chemo/radiation treatments, and operations. He was a very strong man. My hero.......(more tomorrow)

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