"I'm Proud Of You, My Firstborn"

I was working at Kroger on a Sunday morning, when I got the call: he wasn’t going to make it much longer, and I needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible.

It was April 2, 2006, and I had just gotten married 2 weeks ago in Hawaii.  It was the happiest time of my life….and yet the saddest time of my life at the same time. See, my dad was in the hospital, dying of cancer.

He was diagnosed with cancer 4 years before and had been in the VA hospital for about 3 weeks, but I was not prepared for this moment.  I thought he was going to come home, I thought that he would make it, I thought he had a few more years, at least…I had talked to him on the phone when I was in Hawaii, and he had said that when he got out of the hospital we were going to start doing things together as a family more. But that time never came.

There are bits and pieces of memories and random images that stand out in my head of that day....

 

I remember being in the hospital room, the family all gathered around the bed singing, “I Can Only Imagine” by MercyMe.  To this day, I still can’t listen to that song when it comes on the radio.

I remember at one point hearing my grandma wailing in the waiting room, crying out to God not to take her son.

I remember when the nurse said it was almost time, I kissed Dad on the cheek and said, “You can go now, Dad, I’ll see ya soon.”

I remember my little brother next to me saying, “No, no, no, no, no” when Dad passed. That broke my heart into a million pieces, because I would’ve done anything for my little brother to never have to feel a pain like that.

The rest is all a blur to me… I vaguely remember calling Matt(he was out of town) and telling him. I remember walking around the hospital with Jesse and him saying, “This was supposed to be our year.”  I remember feeling like I was in a dream. I remember the pain and the emptiness I felt. I remember feeling like a piece of me was gone...
 

He used to always call me his “firstborn” and tell me he was proud of me ... When I was younger I would just shrug it off because it made me feel awkward to hear my dad say “mushy” things like that. What I wouldn’t give now to hear him say, “I’m proud of you, my firstborn.” 

And although I know this post may seem very dark and sad...I'm not  really sad. I miss him, and I wish he were sill here, but what gives me peace and comfort is the hope that one day I WILL hear him say that again. :)