Yesterday when I was driving home, I began to think about my dad. My dad passed away 10 years ago from non-small cell lung cancer. My dad was never a smoker and he never worked in a factory with asbestos. These are some of the leading causes of lung cancer. He was already in stage four when he was diagnosed. Too late to save him. He died within eight months. It was February 17, 2002. I was not ready for him to leave.
My mom always says I am my father's daughter. As I have grown older, I see it in many ways. I have his competitive nature in regards to sports and games. I have his sense of humor which is not always appropriate. I have his discipline and dedication. I have his sister's laugh. I have his olive skin and his horrible eye sight. I have his shyness. I have his stubbornness and inability to express my feelings. I share his love of photography and athletics. But I don't have my dad.
During his final months, I spent a great deal of time with him at home. We would sit in the living room in silence. Sometimes we would talk but a lot of the time, it was just quiet. I realized there was so much I did not know about my dad. I knew bits and pieces of his life in high school and college. I knew that he and my mom had known each other since childhood. He was a tremendous athlete. He loved the outdoors and was an Eagle Scout. His parents did not approve of he and my mom adopting five mixed race children in the 1960's. I know he worked hard to provide for our family of nine. He sacrificed a great deal so my siblings and I could be competitive swimmers, go to good colleges, go to summer camp and dress like other kids even though we didn't have much money.
My dad had two Masters degrees but still scrubbed toilets and mopped floors for a second job ,when we were young, so the bills could be paid. He rode his bike to work. He was an avid cyclist but did it to save money on gas or so we teenagers could use the car. He fixed our garage full of bikes year after year as we wore them out and broke them down. He spent countless hours at swim meets cheering us on over the years. My dad gave himself over and over without ever asking for much in return.
I remember he use to hide his shaving cream so we couldn't use it to shave our legs. But we found it, used it anyways and put it back. He had five daughters so the shaving cream was the least of his battles. He followed a few of my sisters on dates without their knowledge, to ensure their safety. He warned my brother once, and only once, when he shoved my mom. My brother's feet were not touching the floor at time. He never missed an opportunity to be sarcastic, even in times of pain. It was his way of telling me it was going to be okay. I remember his great words of wisdom when it came to boys and sex, "Rachel, boys think with one head and it's not the one on their shoulders." My sex education complete in his mind.
My dad did get angry once in awhile. Not very often but when he did, you knew it. My brothers snuck one of my sisters out to a Prince concert, so he locked them out for the entire night. He yanked the 'kids phone line' right out of the wall that night. He caught my brother sneaking out his window, so he nailed it shut after he left. He kicked a hole in the bedroom door when my brother locked him out. Nothing most parents wouldn't do!
My dad was not perfect but he was my dad. I loved him very much but never told him enough. He didn't deserve to die so young. He had so much life yet to live. He didn't get to see his grandchildren grow up. He didn't get to enjoy his retirement. His life was gone without his permission. I don't believe he was ready to go. I wonder what he thought about on those days we sat in silence but I was afraid to ask for fear of upsetting him or making him sad that the end was near. I regret not asking.
I miss my dad for so many reasons. Some are selfish, others not. I cannot turn back the clock but sometimes I wish I could so I could ask all the things I never got the opportunity to know about him and his remarkable life. It's too late. Time ran out. I will do my best to cherish the memories I have and learn from my regrets.
Life is short and may be shorter than you plan. Live without regrets and cherish those you love. Being the ones left behind is hard but it's even harder with regrets and missed opportunities.
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