Lost my dad to cancer (this is a long post.)

(Part one)

Since the day I was conceived I've always been a daddy's girl. My parents had me in their early twenties and as my dad used to tell me "I was his dream come true." My dad lost his father when he was just a little boy and though he had an amazing and strong mother and several siblings by his side he experienced the pain of growing up without a father. He said when he got old enough to realize how much that pain really affected his life he made a promise to himself that when God gives him the gift of becoming a father he will always do whatever he can to be present in his child's life and be the best dad he can be. He dreamt of getting married and having kids and starting a family of his own. That's why he used to tell my brother and me  that we were his dream come true. My dad passed away in October of 2012. It was sudden and it was painful. He wasn't even 50 yet. Nobody saw it coming until it was all too late and even in the end, his death left a whole bunch of us in shock and utter disbelief. My dad was a great man and an amazing dad. A wonderful uncle, friend, son and stranger. Everyone wanted to be his friend and people were just drawn to him. He told good jokes, bad jokes, corny jokes and jokes that didn't even make sense but made you laugh anyway. He kept his promise (and more) of being present at all times and being the best dad ever. He was at every special moment and significant milestone in my life, until his last breath. The same goes for my brother. My dad was rarely sick and I can probably count on one hand how many times he's actually had to go to the doctors. In hindsight I wish my dad had made more visits to the doctors and gotten tested regularly even if he was the only one in the whole house without a cold or the bug. (Please always be in tune with your health and encourage the ones you love to always know what's going on with their health too.) In February of 2012 I made a pretty big life decision to move to South Korea for at least a year to teach English. My dad drove me to the airport to send me off and I cried and cried and cried some more. Back then I cried because I was scared to make this big move and get on that plane. Today, I cry because that was the last time I saw my dad looking healthy and full of life and the last time he gave me his big strong bear hugs. In June of 2012, Father's Day to be exact I was back in the states. I got a call from my aunt two days before telling me my dad had been complaining about really bad migraines for several weeks and after collapsing outside our house he was rushed to the hospital. He called me every day morning and night while I was in Korea (there is a significant time zone difference) and in retrospect I can remember times when he had to cut our phone conversations short because he said he wanted to "go lay down and watch tv or take a nap." He didn't sound any different or in pain so I had no idea of what was really going on, but what was going on was he was suffering from splitting headaches and had to sleep it off to get relief. Once his "migraines" started getting worse he told everyone he had it under control and not to worry. Thus, no one thought it was necessary to tell me about his episodes until he got admitted into the hospital. I don't blame anyone for not telling me, in all honesty my dad can be very convincing so if my family members didn't feel the need to tell me I trust they made that judgment call with pure intentions.  Anyways, after purchasing my plane ticket using every cent I had in my bank account and missing my layover and almost not making it back home in time to see my dad before he went into his first ever surgery (brain surgery at that,) I finally made it to the hospital at 3am and walked into a sight I will never be able to forget. My dad was in a hospital bed, hooked up to wires coming out of his chest and arms and hands and pen marks on his head indicating where the surgeon will make the incisions for the surgery. What I wanted to do was just throw myself at him and hold him tight but he looked so fragile and untouchable I just stood there, crying. Even in that exact moment he looked at me and said jokingly, "good thing you're back because you look like you've already gained 30 pounds! Imagine how you would look in a year...boy oh boy!" (He said this not because he was really calling me fat but because before I left, I said to him in the car ride to the airport "Korea has food trucks at every corner, what if I eat all day and night and get really fat and you don't recognize me when I'm back?!") I gave him a hug and though I had a million questions I told him to get some sleep and I'd see him in a few hours before he went in for surgery.