The type of bond my dad and I had was irreplaceable. He was so proud of my military service, proudly calling himself an “Army Dad” and displaying his abundance of car magnet and stickers on the back of his jeep. When I say he was PROUD, I mean, he was proud! Inside his home he had coffee mugs, t-shirts, virtually everything you could think of that was Army related! While he was sitting on his patio and see a military helicopter, he would always say, “Shica is probably in there!” Don’t forget the Pepsi and Heineken.
My dad was my Superman – stoic, strong, protector of all, especially me. No matter how much pain he was in, he prioritized my needs and desires, though he should have considered his own. I would often have to put two and two together in order to find out what was really going on with my Dad. He took protecting me to a whole other level!
In 1996, he was diagnosed with lung cancer and survived his first battle with cancer with only a half a lung removed. Unfortunately, in 2003 the cancer returned and in his worst moments while suffering from the back to back rounds of chemotherapy treatment, my dad somehow managed to assure my fears while assuaging his at the same time. Years later, my dad’s kidneys began to fail and despite my persistent pleas to take one of my kidneys, he refused. A further testament to his Superman-like stature.
My father was known and loved by so many people. He enjoyed cooking and BBQ’ing for everyone. His greatest pleasures were to serve as well as entertaining.
Eventually he would face his last battle with COVID-19, better known as the Coronavirus, and it walk away as the victor. The week after Mother’s Day, he was admitted for pneumonia and a UTI infection. It was at the hospital that I believe contracted COVID and entered renal failure. I had my Dad placed on dialysis. Three weeks later and umpteen calls to the nursing staff to inquire about my dad, he was finally awake and able to speak with me! Of course, him being Superman, the first words he spoke to me were “I’m fine, I don’t want dialysis, and come get me tomorrow.” LOL! Never mind the battle he had just endured and the terror I had endured. My dad was ready to come home and there was NO talking him out of it. For theones that had the great privilege of knowing this great man, you’ll know saying he was stubborn was an understatement.
My dad loved unconditionally, and I greatly admired him for his earnest efforts to help anyone and everyone who crossed his path. Whenever my dad walked in a room, the room lit up – his laugh is infectious. If he laughed, you laughed, without question. Losing him literally is losing a part of my soul, but what gives me peace is knowing he isn’t suffering any longer.
It took about a week before my dad began to gain a bit of his strength back after his hospital stay.
The amount of joy and pleasure I saw in my dad’s eyes during the time we spent was undeniable.
My dad passed away unexpectedly the morning of Father’s Day. His passing came at a great shock to me as I truly wasn’t prepared, especially for the financial repercussions that were to transpire immediately afterwards. Prior to his passing, I had been under the impression that my dad Medicaid and his expenses would be covered. But that was not the case. In addition, I have to cover down on the apartment rent and bills and storage to place his belongings that are too difficult for me to go through at this time.
So as hard as it is for me to ask for help, I realize that in the emotional, physical, and financial state I am in, I really need it. I am aware that we are all tapped so anything helps and if all youcan do is to share this, I am so grateful and appreciative.
Thank you everyone.
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