ON LOSING MY DAD: 10 YEARS

I've considered for some time writing a few posts on losing my dad.  To date in my life, it is one of the hardest things I have ever experienced and to say that it profoundly changed me would be an understatement.  This year marks 10 years that we have been without him, which in some ways feels unfathomable.  I have lived almost a third of my life without him, which sounds and feels like a lot.  In other ways, the past 10 years have flown by - like a blink.  A blink in which I've gotten married, moved several times, traveled around the world, opened a business, bought two houses, had two kids and started trying to adopt two more.  So, I guess I would call that a very full blink.

Essentially, I have made most of the biggest life decisions and started living my real adult life, all without my dad.  Which is never the way I would have pictured it or imagined it.  Or wanted it.  Losing him was unimaginable, and yet, it happened, and we all lived to tell about it.

In this post, I thought I would tell the story of the end, as much as I can easily remember.

It was the Spring of 2001, and Dad was having gastro-intestinal issues that were not making much sense.  No tests were conclusive, and body scans didn't reveal much.  In the Summer of 2001, I was working at Kanakuk as a counselor.  Before the term even started, I got called to the nurses office to take a phone call, which was extremely unusual.  That should have been a tip off for what was coming.

Honestly, I don't even remember who delivered the news, but it was probably my dad on the phone, telling me he had pancreatic cancer and would be having surgery at the end of the week.  Even looking back at it, I vaguely remember the numbness and shock, but that is about it.  Everyone at Kamp was great (many of them understood what I did not at the time, that being how serious pancreatic cancer is), and they allowed me to go home for his surgery, missing the first week of campers.  I went back to Kamp and finished out my term and then headed home to spend the rest of the summer with my family.

As I am reflecting back on it, it all seems a little muddy in my head - or a lot.  I guess that is what 10 years will do for you, and that is part of why I wanted to write it down now.  I know it will only get foggier.

My world was undone.  Nothing this bad had ever happened to me, and I was shaken and wondering why God was allowing all of this.  I started my junior year of college, and Dad did chemo and radiation.  The surgery was successful, but given the type of cancer, the doctors were at no point overly optimistic.  I prayed diligently for healing and believed that God, the all-powerful, all-mighty God of the universe could heal my Dad if he chose to.  There was a time when miraculously all of Dad's counts and scans were good.  It really was amazing, and I remember praising God for good numbers and having hope in the midst of it all.

We kept living life.  That's what you do when someone has cancer.  You keep going, because you just have to.  I was in college and having a delightful time.  As I looked through my pictures to find pics for these posts, I was amazed at all the fun I was having throughout all of this.  I know that his cancer was a shadow that always followed me, and it underscored the way I lived those two years, but it did not entirely define them.  That is mainly a testament to my Dad's guidance during that time and to the Lord's faithfulness to all of us.

(August 2002)

But, the cancer came back, or more likely, resurfaced.  Because of the way the tumor was, Dad was a candidate for another surgery, this time at the world-renowned MD Anderson in Houston, TX - I think in the Fall of 2002.  Someone paid to fly me to be there with him and my mom.  That procedure was not all they hoped it would be.  The news got worse as the year wore on.

(February 2003)

By the Spring of 2003, Dad was heading downhill.  Someone paid for our whole family to go on a wonderful cruise all together over Spring Break.  It is amazing to look back and see all the ways that God provided during that time.


(Spring Break 2003)

Dad retired from work and eventually decided he wanted no more treatment.  It made him feel too bad and was not worth it.  John and I headed home to spend Easter with my family, and that is the last time I really got to talk to and see my Dad.


(Easter 2003)

Two weeks later, we went back to Wichita, because hospice had been called.  He went quickly and at home, with my mom next to him.  She told him to go ahead and go.

In the end, God chose not to heal Dad.  At least, he didn't heal him the way I wanted.  He took him to heaven and gave him a brand new body, so I think Dad got the better end of that deal.  Though ten years have passed, what hasn't passed is the love I have for the man that was my father.  I'm so thankful it was him.