As the youngest of 3 girls, I was coined the baby like most people are. I was seen as a spoiled brat by most people around me. My dad instilled a lot of values in me and was very influential in my upbringing. I can remember him teaching me math problems more advance than what I was learning at school. I would tell my teachers, "I'll check with my dad about this" whenever they would teach me something new. He taught me that knowledge is power so I would study and learn as much as I could. My mom enrolled me in a dance camp which grew into a passion for me. Through it all both of my parents supported me. One time, I had a dance performance, and my mom wasn't able to attend because she had to work. I was so nervous because I did not know how to put on make-up and she wasn't there. I turned to my dad and said, "Well what about my lipstick and blush?". His response was, "Well, it's just like painting a car". He applied my make-up and it actually looked nice. I was shocked but my dad is a girl dad. He learned to braid and handle all the other issues little girls might have. My dad was a rockstar parent for me. I couldn't imagine anything ever happening to him.
At the young age of 35 my father was diagnosed with colon cancer. My parents did their best to shield me from a lot of what he would go through but there is only so much they could really hide. I was very perceptive and nosey so to speak. My dad went through surgery, and I was terrified. I stayed home from school and waited to find out he was out of surgery and ok. I constantly asked questions to find out if he was ok and what the next steps were. As I said, I was perceptive and nosey. Part of it was also fear. Probably a large part. I was afraid that my dad, my hero, my Saturday riding partner was going to be gone. I didn't think I would be able to handle that type of loss. Aside from thinking about it, I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it.
I didn't know how long my dad would be in the hospital to recover. I just wanted him to come home. I felt like once he was home everything would be okay, and it would all go back to normal. Finally, I was allowed to go to up to the hospital and see him. That did not ease my concerns at all. I cried my eyes out. He had tubes, IVs and monitors all hooked up to him. I did my best to remain strong in front of him but it was hard. I believe it was in that moment my worst fear was realized. My dad was pale and couldn't really talk to me. He was out of surgery which seemed great. In that moment, my dad was still dying, and I was coming into my first experience of understanding what loss meant to me.
This is not to say I hadn't lost family members before. I understood the concept that people die and go to heaven or their perceived afterlife. This was different because he was someone part of my main support system. I remember telling my mother when I left the hospital, "I will never go to the hospital again to visit any one because that is where people go to die". Part of me stopped living in that moment. Sickness, death and hospitals all became associated with loss and fear. That type of fear still walks with me today. Logically I understand people die, but I do not handle losing people well at all. I still don't.
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