Around this time last year (12/98), my mom told me that Dad had quit smoking, and that his side was hurting him. I could never explain the "gut feeling" I got when in February it was confirmed that he had some kind of cancer somewhere (they weren't sure where) but he was a good candidate for chemo & radiation for six weeks. People would try to reassure me that he'd be OK, but I just had that sinking feeling that this was it. And it was. In his fourth week, he went to the hospital on Memorial Day and died a few days later. Although I'm thankful that he didn't suffer for months & years like many do, I still miss my Dad.
I was Daddy's girl -- his tomboy daughter who -- grew up and made a lot of mistakes but didn't hear "I told you" from him. After my daughter was born four years ago, they became best buddies. He would pick her up from preschool & let her ride her bike around town, or he would take her to Walmart & get her something we'd never let her have. He did things with her and showed her how to enjoy to simple things in life. Then he died. At 66. Too young. I miss him. My daughter misses him. I cry all the time. I know I'm fortunate to have had a father like him, but I'm greedy and I want him back. It's not like home anymore.
I miss you Dad. Thanks for being there when I needed you, and thanks for having faith in me.
Janet (Smith) Messer
