My Dad

I don't think I was a daddy's girl and I certainly think there are kids out there who are closer to their father than I was.  And yet....my dad was always the one that kept the calm in a houseful of headstrong, noisy girls. I think of all the drama in my teenage years and I never my remember my dad reacting to any of it. He was always there, though, with the things I needed. He made sure we were well taken care of. As an adult, I cherished the times when I would catch him on the phone when mom wasn't home. We would have quiet conversations, mostly about the weather, the Tigers or stuff going on in the great outdoors. I got that from him. And, so did my oldest son.  I think that's what made me the most sad for him after he got sick. He didn't seem to enjoy being outside as much. After the chemo, it was either too hot or too cold for him to be comfortable. It always made me feel bad. In those years of battling one kind of cancer then another, I think he resigned himself to keeping on with the disease. At times, I think of those 7 years and I am furious.  How can a disease be so random, so unforgiving, so vicious?  And then there are times, very few times, when I am bitter.  How unfair. Why him?  And what was it all for?  Most times, though, I'm thankful for the first year battle against lung cancer that extended my dad's life. I'm thankful that I was cognizant enough to appreciate that then and that I came to cherish every visit, every chat, every photo taken after that.  I'm thankful that his illness helped me recognize the power of family. I am also amazed that he had so much grace and peace all those years. He fought that battle and never really complained and never resigned from life. He participated as much as he could until the last. I am humbled and then I am sad.  My dad is gone and I miss his quiet.  I miss him just being there, and I suppose I always will. He was my dad and I was his oldest girl. Always will be.