

Dear Dad:

Working through my father's death

# Brianna LeBlanc

### Copyright © 2017 by Brianna LeBlanc

### All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the authors, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at the address below.

### Published by Brianna LeBlanc at Smashwords

### This is a completely true account of the months leading up to my father's death. Everyone named in this are members of my family and/or people I've worked with or fellow students.

### Cover design by: Myself, with a picture I took.

### May 15, 2015

### Dear Dad,

### I've been preparing for this Moment ever since the doctors found the first spot on your lung. I knew this day was coming, I knew it the moment Mom told me about the test results. Since then I've been coaching myself, training myself to get used to saying the words, "Dad" and "lung cancer" in the same sentence. It's been the running joke for years in our family that you would die of lung cancer from the smoking, but I don't think anyone actually thought it would happen.

### I know I didn't. I thought you would live forever, always a phone call away whenever I need advice, or to vent, or to take advantage of your wisdom and knowledge. I know that's pretty naïve of me, but it's that mentality that our parents are somehow immortal, that they will always be around. I'm 25 years old and I am in no way shape or form prepared to take care of myself, despite your best efforts. I'm ashamed to say that I don't remember all of the lessons you tried to teach me, like ironing and keeping track of my money in a check book and not just spending money and hoping for the best.

### I think it's safe to say that the lessons you have taught me are probably not the ones you meant to: an adversity to any kind of green food; inappropriate racial jokes; a strong dislike for Republicans and the state of Texas and how to cuss out every other driver on the road. But for every "bad" lesson you taught me, you always taught me how to form my own opinion on hot topics – explaining how you feel and why, but telling me to find my conclusion. More often than not, I've adopted your values and beliefs because I agreed with them. The phrase "still waters run deep" is a perfect way to describe you, Dad. For every time you told me a woman's place was the kitchen, you told me that abortion is their choice and no one else's. For every politician you've made fun on the news, you explained politics to me in a way I could understand. For every time you stuck your head in my room and shook your head, you would only have to tell me to clean the bathroom one time. For every sports team that I love and follow, you let me sit next to you on the couch and ramble on and on about them, even though you didn't care. Even though you think soccer is boring, during the World Cup you would watch the games, or keep track of the score so you could call me at work and let me know if my team won. Every time the England National Team won, you would chuckle and hug me and tell me that for a bunch of limeys, they didn't do all that great, your version of "sorry your team sucks." You encouraged me to play basketball when I was younger, always practicing with me on the weekends, and you and Mom never missing a home game, even if we lost. You've always encouraged me to find something that I love and believe in.

### I believe in you, Dad.

I believe in the way you have always supported me, you and Mom, even in some of my own foolish endeavors. You made fun of me sometimes, but you still supported me. You painted a mural on my wall when I loved basketball, spending a good amount of time on it. You bought me basketball after basketball, and then a baseball glove, and then a soccer ball. You bought me rap albums that I had no business listening to at 12, but you knew they were my favorite rapper. Mom totally made you return it for the clean version, but it was the thought that counted. And in any case, she bought me 8 Mile without realizing how dirty it was so I think you guys are even.

### It's the way you've always just let me be who I am. I know that changed as I got older and you couldn't understand why I hated wearing dresses, and we started to clash over that. But even then, you've kind of let it go. I will wear a dress to church when I come home next month, just for you. You've seen me go through a lot of changes, both fashion wise and hair styles. I know my faux hawk is your least favorite, but I like hearing you make rooster noises when you're sitting behind in your recliner. You saw me fight with my bangs until you couldn't stand it anymore and slapped duct tape on my forehead and cut them off. I loved that when Mom came home and saw what you did, you blamed it on Bridgette. When I was younger it was all t-shirts and baggy shoes with basketball shoes and you were fine with that. When I was in high school, I know that you were relieved when I started wearing pink and light-yellow button downs, because then I finally looked like I had a home and wasn't living on the streets. And I know that you liked it even more when I was in college and started dressing a little more formally, slacks and nice dress shirts, the occasional skirt. When I started traveling with the debate team, you always dropped me off at the college, made sure I had plenty of cash, made sure I had everything, hugged me good bye and said "call me when you get there. I'll see you on Sunday." Every time the same response. You took me to the family Christian book store and bought me my St. Christopher medal, so that I would be safe and protected while I was gone. Mom was irritated and told both of us that neither one of us were Catholic so the only thing that would protect me was God. When she turned around, you would always mock her.

### I'm sitting here, Dad, and I feel like it hasn't sunk in yet. Like it hasn't really hit me that by the time I earn my college degree, you will be dead. You will have died of cancer. From this Moment forward, my only task to get this degree so that you can see me walk across that stage, knowing that I not only did this for myself, but I did it for you too, Dad.

### I love you.

### May 18, 2015

### I talked to Jonathan on the phone for an hour the other day. He sounded somber at first, like he wasn't sure if he wanted to really talk about it or not, but pushed forward. The conversation started off serious, but the tone quickly changed when we started talking about your funeral. Then we couldn't stop laughing. We spent forty-five minutes cracking each other up about the way we would run the funeral. No one we didn't like, or that we knew you didn't like would be allowed inside. Tissues would be passed out, under the condition that any crying would be done quietly. We said that anyone that made a scene or started wailing or sobbing really loud would be encouraged to leave because nobody in the family had time to deal with that. Your eulogy would be funny story after funny story. It was the kind of conversation where you're half-serious, half-joking. Jonathan and I are cut from the same cloth in that we have to laugh or else we will lose it. Our humor is our weapon and shield and think now and in the upcoming years, we will need it more than ever.

### I also talked to Mom while I was waiting for the bus to take me back to the campus. She said that you had announced it at church and that everyone was super-supportive. I wish I had been there, in order to gauge how people really took the news. But at the same time, I don't think I could've handled people coming up to me and telling me that they were sorry and would pray for me, like you already had one foot in the ground. Like their prayers were really going to keep you alive.

### I know that when stuff like this happens, people either turn from the church or back to the church. I already spent a good chunk of my young adulthood pissed off at God, so I'm not sure how this is going to go down. I know that you always joke around dragging God into everything and mock Mom every chance you get by saying "God's in control," but you're always the only one who does their Sabbath school lesson, and writes down scripture and watches some random sermon on the computer whenever you miss church. But then that's always been you, making light of Adventism and threatening to go Catholic again, when really you do have a heavy belief in the faith. And I think whether I want to admit it or not, so do I. I know I rarely go to church, but I always observe the Sabbath. I won't watch or listen to things I know God wouldn't like, and I always try not to curse for those 24 hours and even here in Washington, I keep up with it. Its part learned practice, and part watching you follow the rules no matter how many times you mock it.

### Mom mentioned that she wants you and her to start doing more things while you still feel good, but you haven't felt good in a long time, have you, Dad? You've been feeling worn down and worn out and tired, haven't you? You're tired, Dad. Tired of being tired, tired of feeling bad, and tired of that stupid oxygen tank. You breaking your wrist last year and then getting staph was the beginning of the end. And I think I knew it then. That time was running out. That you weren't going to be around for much longer. And then when they first found the spot, that was it. Now I really knew that you didn't have much time. I know that there was still so much more that you wanted to do. I know that you're still looking for your daughter. I know that you're dying to go back to California, just one time.

### And let me tell you, Dad, once I got off the phone with Mom, I started trying to figure out how to get you and that oxygen tank to San Diego. I started trying to figure out if driving would be easier on you or if flying was quicker. I started trying to figure out how long could you and me and Jonathan (because I am going to ask Jonathan to come with us) stay there. I want so badly to do this for you, Dad. Even if I know you're going to end up super disappointed with the state of the, well, state, I want you to see California. Just one more time. As soon as the doctor gives us a time line, we're going to do it. If we can talk Mom into taking the time off, and I guess bring Bridgette, let's do it, Dad. One last family trip.

### I love you.

### May 22, 2015

### Dear Dad,

### Today we got the best possible news that we could under the circumstances. The cancer hasn't spread anywhere else, which means instead of only one year with you, I get five. The whole family gets five more years with you. Chemo and radiation isn't going to be fun. It will be harder on you than the cancer itself, and I'm glad that you and Mom discussed about what to do if the chemo is too much. But it was hard to hear that if you refuse the chemo, the life expectancy is 4-6 months. And I think it was especially hard to hear because I can see you refusing chemo in the future. You start treatment next month, and I wish I could be there for you on your first day. You had the port put in today, and I think it hit home for Mom. I could hear it in her voice as she was telling me about it. I know about these things because as soon as they found the first spot, I began to educate myself. I wanted to know everything. I got to talk to you and Mom on Skype and you looked good, Dad. You looked healthy, and happy. Looking at you, nobody would ever know. It does me good to see you like this, especially when know it'll change in the future. You asked me if I had decided what college to transfer to in Texas, and that meant a lot to me. I know you want me to be happy where I am and that you're so proud of me doing this in the first place, but now you know that all I want is to be near you and you support that.

### I'm going to transfer to SWAU. It's closer and it's Adventist so everyone wins. They have a legit journalism program, unlike here, and I told Mom that after graduate and you pass, I'll move back to Washington and start over. I wish you could see Washington, Dad. It was hard before but now it's impossible and that makes me sad because I know you would really like it here.

### One of the things that really makes me sad is that you'll never see my first book. Do you remember, before I left, you were sitting in your chair in the living room and as I waked by, you said that you wanted me to dedicate my first book to you? It made me laugh because you have faith that I will write a book one day. And I will, and even though you'll never see it, I'm going to dedicate it to you. I will always remember that Moment. I will always remember all of our Moments together.

### I love you.

### May 26, 2015

### Dear Dad,

### I talked to you on the phone last night and it's so good to hear your voice. I know that I won't be able to hear it in a few years, so every time is special to me. We were talking about what kind of duffle bag I should buy and as I rattled off the dimensions and weight and what kind of material it was, I kept thinking that one day, I won't be able to call you and ask you if this or that is good or bad or if I should keep looking or just go ahead and buy it. One day I'll have to use my own judgement and hope that it's good.

### You told me about Aunt Virgie and her diagnosis of breast cancer. It made me laugh when you said that she always has to one up you. As terrible as this sounds, when you first told me, I thought "karma." And then I thought "I hope she goes first." As awful as that sounds Dad, I don't want her to outlive you.

### I talked to Bridgette today for the first time in a few weeks. I wasn't sure how she was taking her diagnosis, so we talked about it. I was a little surprised to hear that she was taking the slightly pessimist approach. She told me that she broke down crying in front of her boss when she talked about you. She told me how she was tired of telling people over and over again that you were dying. That repeating it over and over hurts just as bad as when she found out. I'm inclined to agree. I've only told a few people here at school, not because I had to, because I want to. I want to talk about it, but at the same time, it feels like a kick to the gut. I want to tell everyone who will listen but in doing so, it only makes it more real. I haven't cried yet. I don't know if that's good or bad. When I first found out, when I got off of Skype with you and Mom, I felt the tears building in the back of my eyes, and my throat tightened and my face got red. But then I couldn't do it. For some reason, I couldn't allow myself to cry about it. You weren't dead yet, so a part of me said to save the tears. Maybe it's Mom's voice in the back of my head telling "crying isn't going to solve anything." Which is true. My tears aren't to save you. Nothing is going to save you, not really.

### I feel myself swinging between two emotions; one is the sadness that you're going to die. The other is optimism that I know exactly how much time I have left with you. And in between that is the anger that we didn't start treatment sooner. The fear that I don't know how to live without you. The depression that keeps me in bed, even before I found out. I know that things are going to change when I get home. That I am going to change when I get home. I will be taking on more responsibility until I get to my new school. I will be helping Mom out more, including helping you cooperate with the new diet. I know that in the past you and I have always been on the same page when it came to Mom's health kicks and I know that it's not going to be easy for me to adjust, but things are going to change, Dad. Part of me wants to pretend like none of this is happening. That when I get home, it'll be like I never left. I won't go back to college, I'll start working again and I'll go back to that routine. But I know I can't bury my head in the sand and wait until this goes away. Because this will never go away. This will never be over. In a way, this feels like the beginning of the end. That when you die, things will never be the same. It will start a whole new chapter in everyone's lives.

### I feel like I'm too old to change this way. Like I've hit my peak and this is who I'll be for the rest of my life, no new growth, no new anything, just a steady rhythm that is my life. But then, I'm sure you thought the exact same thing. You've always been this cool, calm and collected guy. Solid as a rock and steady. Never changing, what you see is what you get. And I want to be that person. I want people to tell me "You are just like your father." I can think of no greater compliment or honor.

### I love you.

### June 2, 2015

### Dear Dad,

### You had your first round of chemo yesterday. I could barely pay attention in class because I couldn't stop thinking about it. I know that even though chemo is supposed to help fight the cancer, more often than not, it drains the patients to the point where they don't feel strong enough to fight the chemo. I've seen it happen before, with Luis Roman. I'll never get that image of him out of my mind; how he went from being this strong, stocky, healthy-looking guy, to this frail, sickly shell. Seeing him just waste away like made me so sad because up until then I had seen someone end up like that. It scares me that you'll end up looking like that one day. That I'll come home and I'll see you, but it won't be my Dad anymore, it'll just be...a shell.

### I talked to you on the phone yesterday when I was coming back from study group. You had gotten the college baseball cap I bought for you about a week ago and were so excited! I knew that you had been wanting that hat for years, so I went online and got the best one I could find and had it shipped to the house. I know you're going to start feeling like crap in a few days, so I wanted to get you the hat so you could see how much I love you. I'm glad you were happy about the hat. You gushed about it to me on the phone, telling me how nice it was and how happy you were to have it. It made me feel like I had finally done something right since you had been diagnosed. I've been so angry at myself for being so far away, even though I know logically there isn't anything I can do, just being able to be with you would've made me feel better. So, having you be excited over the hat was the best feeling I've had since I found out.

### You told me about the chemo and what the process was and how long it took and how you felt. I like hearing it directly from you and not Mom, mostly because I can hear how you sound. You sound really good, Dad. A little tired, but you sound good. We talked about Bridgette's behavior and even though I agree one hundred percent with you, it made me sad that you're no longer surprised by her inconsiderate behavior towards you. It infuriates me that she missed your anointing at church when I would've given anything to be there for you. She was supposed to be the one to represent the LeBlanc kids, and instead she acted like a stupid little sixteen year who couldn't be bothered. I'm going to yell at her about it when I get home. It's not fair that she's there with you and doesn't give a shit, whereas Jonathan and I would do anything to be home and helping out with everything. We're both so far from home and there's nothing we can do about it. She's right there and she cares more about her stupid boyfriend and friends than she does about this family. Things are going to change when I get home, though, Dad, so don't worry. I'll straighten her out.

### You know, it's funny, this summer was supposed to be different. When I got to Washington, it was with the sole idea that when Summer came around, I was going to go to Canada to watch the World Cup and spend the rest of the break working and trying to break out into outdoor activities. But now, my summer is going to be spent helping Mom around the house and with you, and possible working. And you know what? I'm not upset at the change. Okay, yeah, I am sad that I'm going to miss the World Cup, but knowing that you don't have many summers left, just makes the remaining ones all the more special to me.

### I love you.

### June 9, 2015

### Dear Dad,

### I got to talk to you on the phone today. It was after the US Women opening match in the World Cup. We won 3 to 1, but it was a really terrible first half. Defense sucked hardcore and midfield was everywhere but where they needed to be. Still we came back strong in the second half. I know you don't understand any of what I tell you about the game, but you still listen and congratulate me like I'm the coach. It was really good to hear your voice and I can't wait to see you tomorrow night. My flight gets in late, but hopefully you'll still be awake. I can't promise I won't tear up because I've really missed you guys.

### So, Bridgette called me a couple of days ago and dropped the bomb on me that she was pregnant. Honestly, I'm not surprised that this happened. I'm so unbelievably pissed and hurt and sad, but not surprised. When she came out and told me, the only thing I could think was that she had ruined her life. That she no longer had a life. And then the only thing I could was that my life was over. MY LIFE WAS OVER! I felt like the baby Daddy. The girl can't take care of herself on her best day, how the hell was she supposed to take care of herself and a baby? I knew in that Moment that I was going to have to take care of her. I was going to be the one who made sure she was taking her prenatal vitamins and going to her doctor appointments. I saw my life going down the drain because how can I take care of her while I'm away at college? I can't. I stay pretty calm on the phone with her, but the second I hung up, I lost it. I just started crying. No, I was bawling. I was so angry and hurt. I called Mom, sobbing, telling her everything I couldn't tell Bridgette. I think I cried for about an hour, listening to Mom tell me to calm down and to stop making it about her. She told me that I wasn't responsible for Bridgette and that she wasn't going to let me put college on hold for her. She told me that I had my own life and it didn't include my sister.

### But that's the thing. Bridgette isn't included in any of our lives. Not me, not Jonathan, not Shannon and definitely not you and Mom. Mom already made it clear that you're are her number one priority and that's as it should be. But that means that nobody cares about Bridgette. Nobody isn't excited about this baby. How can we? How can we deal with a pregnant Bridgette and your cancer at the same time? Bridgette has always been a burden on this family and her pregnancy could not come at a worst time. The really sad part about this is that Bridgette knows this sucks. Nobody loved her before and that she's pregnant we love her even less. Bridgette will never be able to win no matter what she does. And I love her. I do. But I want to shake her. I want to hurt her. I want to scream at her that this is the biggest mistake she could ever make. But I can't because now Bridgette needs someone to love her. The boyfriend wants her to get an abortion, which tells me he wants nothing to do with the baby. She's over at his house right now even though he probably wishes she'd hit the bricks because she wants someone to love her. And right now, that's no one.

### Jonathan called me last night pretty upset about the whole thing. I don't blame him. He feels pretty much the same way I do; we are both incredibly sad about the whole thing. We want to be happy, but we just can't. I've felt pretty numb ever since she told me. That this was happening to someone else. Like I was at work and this was just another patient. It's taken a lot of soul searching and coming to terms with this to come to the conclusion that even though I'm so angry at her, I will support her. I will step in where Mom cannot and I will take care of her. But I'm still going to college. SWAU is far enough away that I can still come home on the weekends, but ignore Bridgette if I want to.

### I don't know how you're taking this. Here is a grandkid that you won't see reach age three. A grandkid who won't remember who. A grandkid who will grow up without you. This poor kid is coming into this family at the worst possible time, but there's nothing any of us can do but accept it. I'll make sure that this kid knows who you are and the wonderful person that you were.

### I love you.

### June 13, 2015

### Dear Dad,

### It was a chaotic day but I finally made it home last Wednesday. I could barely sleep Tuesday night because I was so excited to come home! Wednesday felt like I had gotten stuck in a time bubble and then it went downhill from there. I got to the airport late and then security took forever so I barely made my flight from Seattle to Dallas. Even though we arrived in Dallas early, we didn't exist the plane for 15 minutes thanks to some newbie not knowing how to do their job, so then I ended up going to the wrong gate thanks to a stupid Indian flight attendant who spoke poor English. Thankful that flight was delayed but by this point I was tired and pissed off and just wanted to be home already. I started crying when I finally saw you guys, even though I wanted to keep it cool. It was so good to see both you and Mom and to hug both of you. Bridgette was there too, but she kept complaining about feeling like she was going to throw up the whole time. It was weird seeing all the new stores that had opened while I was gone. Like life had still been going even though I was away. Being back in my own home with my own stuff was great. I had a hard time feeling asleep that first night since I'm still on Washington time, but it was fine.

### When I got up the next morning, I went to go talk to you and I knew that you had noticed that I had lost a lot of weight. You told me I needed to start eating again and I don't know how to tell you that I'm not hungry. More than that, I'm not interested. By this point, I can go all day without eating, but I choked down some ramen because I don't want you to worry. I ended up falling back asleep for another three hours, just waking up in time for you to get ready for your PT appointment. I had a sandwich and some cookies so you could see me eat. Mom came home to pick you up and I asked if we could go get Subway. I could see that Mom was happy that I was asking for food.

### You know it's funny. I thought I would feel different when I came home. Older, settled, mature, just...different. Instead I feel like I'm stepping back into my life exactly the way I left it. Like someone hit pause on my life before I went to Washington and then hit resume when I came back. Like those months I spent away from home didn't really count or mean anything. Like it was an extended vacation. I expected to feel different. I want to feel different. I feel like I should be different with everything that's been going on with you and Bridgette.

### Bridgette. I don't even know where to start with her. Honestly if you didn't have cancer, I would not have come home. I would've stayed in Washington pretending she didn't exist. I've only been home for two days, but I wish I had stayed in Washington and stayed the course, followed the path I created and started my life up there. Instead I've right back where I started, feeling like I never left in the first place. Like it was all dream, like a "what if" Moment. Mom wants me to get a job and I do want to get one, but I don't want to go back to Dr. Baylor's office with all the drama going on. The only drama I have room for is you and Bridgette and I feel like if I get stuck in another hostile environment, I'm going to have a nervous breakdown. I tried telling Mom how I felt, but she just kind of scoffed, like I was making a big deal out of nothing, like I should be taking her cool, calm and collected approach. But that's not me. I can't keep it bottled up like that otherwise I'll crack. But you know Mom, you know how she is. I guess I'll feel better about it when I can start really helping out around, contributing money wise. I don't know, I guess like I just feel like maybe I left something of myself back in Washington. Like who I was there, isn't who I am here. I know what's like to be on my own, to take care of myself, to be my own master. I don't want to end back up at a job I mostly hated with no chance of it getting better. Maybe I need a job to get back into the swing of things.

### I love you.

### June 21, 2015

### Dear Dad,

### Happy Father's Day!! I know today wasn't as big as it normally would be because of you not feeling great, but I feel so incredibly blessed to even have this day with you. Things have been crazy for a while. I've been trying to get back into the swing of things. I got together with Kat and was able to talk about you and Bridgette. I finally got some things off my chest and it was great to talk to Kat. She offered a lot of perspective into Bridgette that none of us have. It's been really great being back with you. We've been spending a lot of time together and it really helps seeing you be okay with everything. I also talked to you about depression. You've battled and struggled with depression since before I was born, so I know you were the one person who would understand what I was going through. I almost chickened out, still believing that I would be able to fight through this myself, but in the end, it was easy to tell you how sad I felt, how sad I had been feeling. You understood right away and comforted me, telling me that everything would be okay and that you would get me some help because you didn't want to find me hanging from one closet one day. Hopefully I'll be able to make an appointment really soon. I was dreading telling Mom since she doesn't understand, but she was actually really cool about it. I told her that it started in Washington and I think she maybe still might chalk it up to homesickness and that I might get over it, but she agreed that if I needed to talk to someone than I should.

### I met up with Dafney, wanting to reconnect with that part of my life. Seeing her again was great and spending time with her was great. I was finally able to get everything off my chest regarding Bridgette. She reacted exactly the way I thought she would and she let me vent and whine and complain without judgement. We ended up swinging by the clinic to see everyone. It was awesome, being back there. I would love to get my job back and get back into the swing of things, but I also know that with each chemo round, you're going to get sicker and sicker and a big part of me wants to stay jobless so I can help Mom take care of you, but I need the money. Mom thinks I'm dragging my feet by not being more proactive in getting my job back, but part of that hesitation might be the depression. I don't want to work. I don't feel like working. I don't feel like doing anything. I'm having a hard getting the ball rolling with getting everything transferred to SWAU because of that same reason. Why should I go back to college? Why should I have to be away from you guys again? Logically I knew that getting a degree would make you guys really proud and I want to do it, I really do. I just can't find the motivation to do it.

### Being back in Killeen feels like a huge step back. Like I just gave up in Washington because I was too homesick and didn't realize what I was getting myself into. I had so many plans for making a life out there and now here I am. And what's worse is I did it to myself. I could've stayed in Washington for the summer, gotten a job, taken summer classes. I could've done fall quarter and came home for Christmas Break. But I couldn't stand being so far from you guys with you being sick. You were fine at the time but what if something happened? What if the treatments didn't work or what if you suddenly just got worse and I couldn't get home in time? Too many what-ifs.

I tried explaining it to Mom as a way of explaining why I didn't feel better when I came home, but she doesn't understand. It's hard to explain to her what's in my head, it always has been. You start your second round of chemo on the 24th and I pray to God you take it as well as you did the first round. Because I can't imagine you getting too sick to carry on.

### I love you.

### June 27, 2015

### Dear Dad,

You and Mom's 35th wedding anniversary was two days ago. I know because I was sitting next to you while you were getting your next chemo round. After not being able to fall asleep, I woke up bright and early to go with you to your 8:00 o'clock appointment, despite the fact that I had only fallen asleep maybe four hours before. You did radiation first, leaving me sitting in the waiting room, with fox news on the TV and me unable to change it because the old guy sitting next to me was enthralled. Then we headed across the wall to get your chemo. You sat in the recliner and gave an update to the nurse about how you're feeling as she cleaned out your port and then hooked up the saline to help push flush your kidneys. This lasted for half an hour before they hooked up the actually chemo. Sitting next to you, getting you orange juice and water and making sure you were warm, I felt useful for the first time since I got home from Washington. Although more often than not, I regret leaving Washington, especially when all I see since I've been home is you and Mom fight. I feel like the common denominator, since Mom told me how great you two got along when I was gone. But then I remember that ninety percent of your fighting is about Bridgette, so that helps with the anxiety but not a lot. I'm also having trouble with anxiety. Everything makes me nervous and anxious now. Part of it is the Women's World Cup going on right now and you know I get really high strung when it comes to the U.S. Women's National Team, and they're doing really poorly now. But I don't like being in public now. I don't like people talking to me. I'm worried about everything. I'm worried about you, I'm worried about Mom killing you in your sleep, I'm worried about Bridgette and how her stupid baby Daddy drama is bad for the baby, I'm worried about Jonathan making a huge mistake by getting married, I'm worried about going to an Adventist university and having to hide the fact that I like girls, I'm worried I won't get a job. I'm worried about everything and that's not me. I'm not worried about anything ever. And now I worry about everything and I feel like I'm slowly suffocating. I feel like I'm slowly drowning and I can't say anything because there is entirely too much going on in our family right now for me to add to it. You know who I am, Dad. You know I'm the kind of person to put my family and their feelings above my own. I wish I didn't. I wish I could cast it off and say "screw it" and only worry about myself. But I can't. When you got home today from your last chemo round of the month, you looked really tired. I sat on the couch and watched you sleep for two and a half hours, looking up from now and then from my phone to make sure you were still breathing. I know todays round took a lot out of you. You were in bed by 8:30, before the USA vs China match was over. I know because when the US scored a goal, I screamed and Mom yelled at me to shut up because you were sleeping. When the match ended, I wanted to tell you about it, but you were snoring, so I couldn't. I can tell that Mom's really worried about you this time. She keeps telling me that next month is going to be the roughest and it is. Most people think that cancer kills you, but really, it's the treatments. You die from your immune system being so weak that you're unable to go on. That's what scares me the most about this whole thing; you being unable to go on. You giving up simply because your body can't take another step, another move, another breath. You getting to the point where death is a sweet release. I'm scared you'll die before I can get this degree, and if you do, that's it. I'm done. There will be no point in getting something you won't be around to see.

### Although to be fair, I already feel that way. I'm dragging my feet in getting everything all set up for SWAU because I don't feel like there's any point. I'm started out getting this degree because I was tired of not getting pay raises at work, but I don't work there anymore, so what's the point? And now I'm getting it for you, but for what? I just feel like everything is completely pointless because I have a voice in the back of my head and a feeling in the pit of my stomach that says why matter when you know there's a good chance you'll end up killing yourself. It's a voice that I've had for a long time, and I've never told anyone about it, not even the therapists in the past, because who wants to admit that.

### I know it's the depression. I've been fighting this voice for a long time, so I know how to beat it. But I know the depression is making it worse. I'm trying to get some help, but it's hard finding someone who can see me now and not in October. But I'm not going to give up. And neither can you, Dad.

### I love you.

### July 14, 2015

### Dear Dad,

### It's been a while. A crazy while. I'll start at the top. You've been doing really well with the chemo and the radiation. But you are super tired all the time, Dad. Like, I've taken to sitting on the couch watching you sleep for three and a half hours before getting up, doing something for five minutes and then going back to sleep for another three and a half hours. I could be doing a thousand other things, but I like keeping an eye on you. I have to feel like I'm contributing to this family or else I left Washington for nothing. You do have your bad days, and recently that's been more often than not. You and Mom fight all the time. From sunup to sundown. Jonathan got into town today and he noticed the fighting. He seems worried about it and so am I. But after 35 years, I know neither one of you is going to leave. But it feels like it, a lot.

Bridgette finally got her car repossessed. At first you and Mom thought it had been stolen, but this was much worse. Mom woke me out of a dead sleep at 7 in the morning to tell me. Of course, there's not a damn thing I could do about it, so I went back to sleep after an hour, until Bridgette woke me up asking for money. She had to pay three months' worth of car payments plus the fee to get the car. $1,310.04. That's how much I paid. Thirteen grand. I have never given someone that much money before. I felt sick to my stomach the whole time I did it, but honestly, Dad, she was holding us hostage. Mom had to go and drive her everywhere cause the dumbass wanted to drive without a license because surprise, surprise, her purse with everything in it was in the car. So, I had to do something, but it took almost all the money I had saved up to bring with me to SWAU. I can't even look at my bank account anymore because I get so angry and sad. She finally got her car back, thank God, but you sat her down and made her budget out her money so that she could pay her bills and pay me back. She says that she's moving in with the baby Daddy, but I give that a couple of months before he either dumps her or kills her, whichever comes first.

So, something historic happened on July 5, 2015. Shannon drove up from Austin to watch the Women's World Cup final with me. That's not the historic thing, but it is part of it. Ever since I got Shannon into soccer, she and I haven't been watch any major games together. We either text or call to talk about games we happened to watch. So, it actually meant a lot to me for her to come up and watch the game with me. And what a game, Dad!! Oh my god, I still can't believe it!! I haven't seen a final of any soccer match like that before in my life!! The USA was playing Japan again in the rematch of American women's soccer. And I'm telling you, as soon as the ref blew the whistle, the game was over. Three minutes in, Carli Lloyd scored the first goal! This was already amazing because throughout the World Cup we had become known as a second half team, not scoring until the 50th minutes. So, this was already huge, but then Carli scored again in the 5th minute and we're up 2-0 just like that! As excited as I was, I thought that was going to be it, but then Lauren Holiday (who sadly is retiring) scored in the 14th minute! AND THEN!! CARLI LLOYD SHOOTS OFF A GOAL FROM 54 YARDS AWAY!! Dad, she made a goal from the half way point of the pitch! Carli not only scored a hat trick (three goals in one game) but she was the first to score a hat trick in a World Cup final match, for guys and girls!! 16 minutes and the USA is up 4-0. Shannon and I were going nuts!! She and I had never seen anything like this before!! It was a bloodbath, a slaughter! There had never been a World Cup final like this ever before! As soon as Lauren Holiday scored that third goal, I thought that Japan had one hell of an uphill battle, but I had seen teams make a comeback like that before. But then the hat trick and I knew that we had won. That the USA had just won the Women's World Cup. Nobody comes back from 4-0. Nobody. The Japan did their best, scoring a goal right before half time to make it 4-1, but by this time, I was like, "We won, what else is on?"

Now 4-1, nobody is coming back from that, and Tobin Heath (who I had been bad-mouthing because I wanted someone else to play her position and I have since then asked for her forgiveness) scores in the 54th minute. After that it was a waiting game. While the USA is kicking around the ball, watching Japan chase it, the FIFA officials are engraving USA onto the World Cup trophy. The last two minutes of the game, Shannon and I are right in front of the TV, on our knees, holding each other because this was it. Years of watching this team grow and expand and become the number one power house national team was all playing off and we were watching it happen. You were sitting on the couch watching it, too and before the ref blew the whistle to end the match, Mom got up so she could take pictures of me and Shannon celebrate.

I got to tell you, Dad. We all watched history being made that day. The whole team went crazy because they had finally emerged from the shadow of the 99ers and made their own mark on history. The squad of 2015 earned the USA that third star on the jersey, making the U.S. the only team to have won three world cups. I started really watching the team and following them at the 2012 Olympics. I love this sport. I love this team. I love each and every one of those players. I love how this team and this sport makes me feel. I love that from now on, whenever anyone talks about U.S. women's' soccer, they talk about this world cup. They talk about the 15ers. They talk about how determined this team was and how hard they worked and how much they wanted to stand on their own two feet as the greatest team. I feel like privileged to have watched that game. To have watched history being made. This match and this team has changed the face of women's' soccer forever. Twenty-five million people watched that game, and now tons of new fans are flocking to watch the NSWL (the national women soccer league) which means the league will finally be okay and might even be able to expand to more teams and more cities. I feel so proud.

By the way, thanks for putting up with me for this world cup. I know that I drove you and Mom nuts with how much I complained about the team, complained about other teams, worried that we were going to end up going home in the quarterfinal because we had sucked so bad until we played Germany. Thanks for putting up with me cheering and cursing at the top of my lungs, and jumping around the house, ecstatic that we had survived another game. You know, I dreamed about the team every night during the world cup. I dreamed that we won, that we lost, about everyday adventures. I am obsessed with this team, and you and Mom put up that. Especially thanks to Mom, who listened to me worry and stress and almost have a heart attack for the five days leading up to the US playing Germany. That was the team I was worried about the most because they were going to be the biggest test and up until that match, we were winning by the skin of our teeth. We plain sucked and I knew that there was no way we were going to beat Germany, and I was so scared of watching the match and seeing my team in tears and devastation after losing to Germany. Mom heard it every night from me as she washed dishes, and even up until the match started. She was the first one to laugh at me when we ended up beating Germany 2-0, telling me that I had been so sure that we were going to lose and that I had no faith in my own team. That was actually really special to me. I think that's when she finally really realizes how much I love this team. For the last couple of years leading up to the world cup, she's been listening to me complain or cheer about the team every now and then. She listened to complain about Hope Solo getting into trouble yet again. She listened to me yell and complain about losing to France and Brazil when we're ten times better than them. She listened to me cheer when we won our friendlies and other matches leading to the world cup. And she bought me an Abby Wambach t-shirt for Christmas. I ended up wearing that shirt every time the U.S. played and we never lost a match. So, when I get my new U.S. jersey, I'm framing that shirt.

I love you.

### August 4, 2015

### Dear Dad,

### After your blood transfusion, I feel like everything has gone downhill. Last month the doctor said that your bone morrow was starting to be affected by the chemo, along with your red blood cell count. So, they said you had to have a blood transfusion, two pints. Jonathan came home for two weeks, so he's been taking you to radiation in the morning, and then we both went with you to chemo and blood transfusion. We spilt the time between us, but I logged more hours. Watching the blood slowly drain down the tube into your chest is one of the creepiest things I've ever seen. I thought for sure I was going to pass out once or twice. But you needed it, Dad. You were finally starting to look sick. You were pale and your hair isn't growing back so for the first time in my life, you were bald. Legitimately bald. I think that more than anything is what makes my stomach hurts. All the doctors said that after the transfusion you were feel better and I believed them.

### Instead for the last few weeks you've been getting weaker and weaker. I'm spending most of the day watching you sleep, scared you might die with me in the other room if I don't. I know it annoys you because you'll look at me and shake your head. I can't help it though, twice on my watch you've hurt yourself and now I'm super paranoid. I watch fight to catch your breath all the time. You walk around for ten minutes before stopping because you can't breathe and then you sleep for three hours. You're not taking your vitamin C anymore and you refuse to drink anymore carrot juice or smoothies. You and Mom fight all the time. She's trying to keep you alive and I know you feel like crap and that's why you get angry and yell at her, but she's trying so hard, Dad, because she's scared. You make her cry. That hurts me, seeing her so upset because it looks like you don't care anymore about trying to stay healthy. She's scared and so am I.

### I don't want to go to school. I don't want to leave you. I like staying home and keeping an eye on you. I like helping you out around the house because you need it and I like when you pat me on the arm and you say, "Thanks, Brini." I feel like I'm finally making the difference I wanted to when I moved back home. But I'm also watching you get sicker and sicker. You're starting to lose weight and your arms are covered in bruises. You look like you're been in a fight. When you take your glasses off, you look exhausted. You look so, so tired. Like you're about to give up. Mom says that you tell her you'll keep fighting, but I'm starting to think otherwise.

### Mom got a call from the clinic a couple of days telling her that your white blood cell count was low. That means you aren't strong enough to handle the chemo. I was waiting for this to happen. For the chemo starting to slowly take away your ability to fight. Your radiation was called off and tomorrow you and Mom will find out how long your chemo will be delayed. You're almost always in a bad mood and I know you don't mean it because you feel really bad, but it's hard to watch you struggle and suffer all day every day. You don't finish dinner anymore because you get tired of chewing, but you refuse smoothies. You only eat little meals and I can see your strength diminishing. I see you fight to catch your breath after moving around for a little bit. You can't get comfortable in the living room, but if you stay in your room all day you get lonely. Mom says I can't stay here past August, but I'm really scared that if I feel you'll get even worse. I don't know how to help you and neither does Mom. She's been busting ass trying to juggle both you and work, but she's just as exhausted.

### I was talking to her before she went to bed and she's so tired and she's so worried, Dad. She's trying to keep it together but I can hear it in her voice and see it in her face. You have to take it easy on her, Dad. You have to be nicer to her, you have to stop fighting her. Jonathan and I talked about you and her fighting when he was here. He's worried that all the fighting will get to you guys, but I told him not to worry. But sometimes I do feel like if you were feeling better, that you and Mom would split. I know that's stupid after 35 years and you're in your 70s and 50s respectively, but it is how I feel.

### It was about 2:00 this morning, and I was getting ready to go to bed when I heard a thud coming from your side of the house. When I got up to check, I saw the guest bathroom light was on but I didn't see your oxygen tube, so when I looked around, you were swaying on your feet near the doorway like you were about to fall. I grabbed your arm to steady you and you said you were okay, that you had just lost your balance, but you were staggering, almost like you were drunk. My heart was in my stomach and I helped you back to bed. Mom woke up when she heard me and she asked what happened. I said I heard a noise so I went to investigate and I found you swaying like a drunk sailor. You were sitting on the bed, drinking some water, catch your breath. Mom helped you get settled back into bed, but I didn't want to leave until I was sure you'd be okay. You gently grasped my arm and thanked me for helping you and that I could go to bed. I said goodnight, but I couldn't sleep. I can't help but think that maybe you're not going to get better. That you won't make it to five years. That maybe you're starting to give up.

### Please don't give up.

### I love you.

### August 22, 2015

### Dear Dad,

### You just got out of the hospital a few days ago, on Wednesday. It has been going from bad to worse. You keep almost falling down. A couple of nights ago Mom and I were getting ready for bed. We had just watched an episode of Doctor Who and were turning off the lights and I went into my room. I was just getting ready to plug in my phone when I heard a small thump from your room and that's when Mom yelled my name. I bolted for your room and that's when I saw you and Mom. You were practically on your knees with Mom barely holding you up. I ran over and helped Mom pick you up, both of us trying to get you to move your legs and help us get you to the bed. You were gasping like you couldn't get any air. We managed to get you to the bed and sat you down before Mom went to go get your portable oxygen. I sat behind you and you were just gasping, breathing really hard like you were panicking. I put my hand on your chest and told you to take deep breaths. To calm down and breathe deep. When Mom showed back up you were doing better but the oxygen helped. Mom was scared. I was scared. Mom wanted to take you to the ER since you were getting enough oxygen but you were doing better so we just laid you back down on the bed. We all hung out together for a while, almost two in the morning.

### I was scared, Dad. Mom said it looked like you were about to pass out. For some reason, you're not getting enough oxygen at night and then when you wake up you're so out of it. You're okay during the day, and I would know since I'm the one watching you, but at night it's a different story. You held my hand and told me that everything was okay. It's not okay Dad. Lately it feels like one step forward ten steps back. This last chemo round just kicked your ass so bad. You're not bouncing back like you usually were. I'm supposed to go to school in the morning. I don't want to leave you.

### You had a doctor's appointment on Monday to follow up and see how things were going. You wound up in the ER because of low blood pressure. Your doctor didn't like the look of you. When Mom texted me, I tried not to panic. But then she called and said they were admitting you because you had a really low blood count. I was torn in two how that made me feel. On the one hand, I was relieved because here was the reason you weren't feeling well, and the blood transfusion would help you. But on the other hand, you were going to be stuck in a germ-infested hospital with a bad immune system. What if you got even sicker?

### Since they were admitting you, it was going to be just me at home since Mom was going to stay with you. I like how both you and Mom were like "are you okay to stay home by yourself?" Like I haven't before. Like I'm not 25 years old. Mom came home with a pizza and she looked really flustered. Stressed. I know it was partly because for some reason this time around you guys were having a shitty experience with the doctors, and also because it was going to be a rough ride for both of you.

### I didn't get a chance to see you until the next day, and by that time I was elbow deep in getting all ducks in a row at SWAU. I had my classes, I was just waiting for my financial aid to kick in and then housing. Mom came and picked me up so I could see you. I was excited because I had my class schedule and I couldn't wait to show you. When we got to your room, you didn't look great. You looked sick. I know it's because you're always bad that first full day in the hospital. You can't get any sleep because everyone and their Mom comes in to bother you. You were eating but it looked like a struggle. I was still happy to see you. I don't like hanging out in the hospital room. Too many people come in wanting to do a million different things and they always got to bring an intern in with them and I want to tell them to just leave you alone.

### I stayed there for the rest of the afternoon, watching four hours of Law & Order: SVU and listening to Mom snore. You fell asleep too, finally getting some sleep. A physical therapist came in to talk you about what was going to happen when you went home. By the way he was talking, the only home you were going to was a nursing home. He was concerned that with me going to college and Mom back to work, you would be by yourself and if you fell or something you would be fucked. I didn't like hearing that and neither did Mom. She's been working with her boss on how to basically work from home until you're stronger. I want to delay school. I want to wait a semester until you're better and then go in the spring. You didn't like that. You said that I was too close to getting a degree to stop now. I don't want to go. I don't want to leave you alone. It's just you and me during the day and I take care of you and I like that. I should've applied to Texas A&M, but I'd rather die than attend that school. You told me that everything would work out, but I know you're worried about something happening. They suggested you start using a walker and I laughed because no way in hell my Dad would ever use a walker. But then I saw you eyeing it and considering it. Moments like this when it hits me that things are different now. You're different now. You're sick.

### Bridgette came and picked me up to take me home and I was on my own again. The trick to staying by yourself when you've watched too many crime TV shows to not freak yourself out. They finally released you on Wednesday because you were feeling better. I went with Mom to the hospital and you looked a lot better. It made me feel better. School is ready to go, just needed to apply my financial aid. Boy that was a nightmare.

### When we got home from the hospital, I went online to finish registering from school and they told me, "Here is all this financial aid. You still owe the school $2,591.24." I freaked out. I admit it. The same thing happened to me in Washington, but that was a miscommunication. This was a straight up, this comes out of pocket, so pony up the cash. I told Mom I couldn't go to school because I couldn't afford the up-front charge. I got to tell you, Dad, when I saw the amount I saw red because all I could of was the $1,300 dollars I had loaned to Bridgette. I was pissed.

### Mom ended up calming me down and got on the phone with student financial aid services and she talked to the guy. He worked with me and ended up letting me borrow a little more money to cover it, but I still needed to pay $600 dollars, which was doable. You guys gave me the money and I swear I will pay it all back. I promise.

### After you came home, things got a little better. I waited Saturday night to pack, knowing I was leaving first thing Sunday morning, but that's me for you. Around midnight, Mom yelled my name. I'm tired of hearing my name. I rushed into the bathroom and Mom was struggling to hold you up. She kept telling you to move your legs, but you weren't listening. I went and stood in front of you and called your name. You weren't blinking, you weren't responding, you weren't breathing well. That scared me the most. It was like the lights were on but nobody was home. It took a while for you to wake up so to speak. When things finally calmed down, I told you that I seriously wanted to stay home but again, even when you were still a little breathless, you were adamant that I go to school.

### So, everything that I do in the next two years is all for you, Dad.

### I love you.

### September 29, 2015

### Dear Dad,

### I know it's been a while and I don't really have an excuse other than I've been busy being miserable at school. I know it's not what you want to hear, but it's the truth. From the moment I moved into my dorm room and had the world's most awkward encounter with my roommate, I have been miserable. This school sucks. The food here sucks, I'm barely making minimum wage, I hate sharing a room with a complete stranger and I hate living in the middle of nowhere, with nothing easily accessible by walking. I need a car just to go find food and since I don't, I'm stuck here eating this god-awful Adventist food. I miss Washington, but the only upside to this, is being close to you.

### Your cancer has shrunk! It hasn't gone away, but it's not growing! You can't have chemo anymore since your body can't handle it and I'm fairly certain another round might kill you. But you're recovering, your numbers are up, you have more energy and appetite and you're walking more and more! I've been able to come home twice since I came here, and each time you've been better and better! It sucks that you can't come up for parents' weekend, though but Jonathan is flying in to keep you company and hopefully come see me for a day.

### Let me just say this school is doing the most here, Dad. It's a private school so of course this school has almost no money to spruce the place up, so I have to put up with mold growing on the door frame and two washers and dryers for an entire women's dorm building. The food is beyond terrible and everything is so frigging expensive! And there is NO Starbucks within walking distance! And on top of ALL of that, I am entirely too old and too much of a private person to share a room with a complete stranger, who I definitely don't like. Bridgette and Mom say I'm being mean to her, but I didn't even talk to her! I just pretend she doesn't exist and apparently that makes me a bad person, but you know what, whatever works. I'm not here to be her friend, or make friends. I'm here to get my degree and become a sports journalist. That's the goal. My classes are a little harder than I thought they would be, so I don't have time to sit on her bed and play twenty questions and talk about boys while painting her nails. I wish I could say my classes were interesting, but they're not, and I only like one out of the five I'm taking. Mass Communications is my kind of class! The teacher is really good and it's really interesting and I'm learning a lot about the way we communicate with each other and the world! My Public Relations class is my boring class, so its struggle to go through it. I'm also taking Human Biology and Dad, I swear I'm going to fail. The teacher is a total nerd who thinks he's grad school bio majors and not a bunch of freshman and sophomores forced to take a science class. Nobody in the class is a bio major, so everyone is struggle to keep up with him. His tests are super hard too! Like he goes over the chapters on Powerpoint, and then everything on the test comes from either the text book or what he said in class, so nobody is doing good in his class. My health and wellness is more than I was expecting. I keep forgetting to do my homework, because I keep forgetting that we actually have homework. My photo graphic editing class is okay, but I'm not really good at editing photos or using Photoshop because I keep forgetting what everything means. But I will find a way to make it through.

### I am making friends though. I met a group of weird kids that I sit with at lunch and dinner and I have a good time with them. They're the kind of kids you find in public school talking about Japanese cartoons that nobody watches but they're really funny. I also have Silvia and the rest of the Bernard Clan and they've taken me under their wing and I've met a couple of other people that I hang out with, so there's that. Work is going good. I'm getting better as time goes on, and I'm doing a little networking on the side to try and get a better job. My boss, Juan, is a really laid-back, chill Hispanic. He's an awesome boss and I really like him. I don't like that I'm only getting paid $7.25 an hour, but I'm sure if it was up to the school, they're never pay us in the first place.

### Speaking of pay, I have to say this. I know that my current financial situation isn't great by any stretch of the imagination and I definitely wasn't expecting to struggle like this, so I am so incredibly grateful that you and Mom are helping me out like this. I know it's killing you and Mom that I'm essentially broke with almost all my money going back to the school and barely getting any pocket money back. I'm always worried about how I'm going to pay for my braces each month, never mind the phone bill, and you and Mom have your own bills to pay, but thanks for putting money in my bank account so I don't have to worry about it. I promise I will pay it all back one day. I'll get a better job or even a second job and find a way to make everything work. I wish I could snap my fingers and not worry about money like when I was in Washington, but again, this is a private school.

### Hopefully one day in the future, you're still alive and you'll get this big fat check in the mail from me. It'll be my first pay check from my job working for the social media and journalism department for US Soccer, my dream job. I promise you, Dad. It's going to happen.

### I love you.

February 2nd, 2016

### Dear Dad,

### I'm actually in class right now, but I'm so excited! Zane is here!! Mom called me this morning and told me that Bridgette had given birth around 6:30 a.m. and that Zane was healthy and Bridgette was doing well. I'm so happy you're here to see him! I know he came from your least favorite child, but a baby!! I'll be home this weekend so I can meet him myself! So, I'll see you in a few days!

### I love you!

I didn't write any letters to him for the weekend  
I was home. We were both busy the whole time.

March 4th, 2016

### Dear Dad,

### Things aren't looking so good. Shannon called me a few days ago and told me the doctors had given you less than three months and that I needed to talk to someone at the school about bereavement leave for students. I paced back and forth on the sidewalk outside Mr. Jim's Pizza, unable to believe what Shannon was really telling me – that I needed to come home to say goodbye. When Mom told me Shannon had come home for a few weeks, I was shocked. Up until now, she had been content to stay in Austin and see what will happen next. For her to actually come speaks volumes to me.

### Sorry I was a little late in getting home last night! I came home with a friend and we left super late, but I made it! I can't tell you how it made me feel to hear you say "There's my baby girl!" when I finally came in the door. I wanted to cry because I was so happy to see you! I'm looking forward to this next week with you!

### I love you.

This picture was taken sitting on the couch. I came  
home that week for Spring Break and I always took  
a picture of my Dad to post on Instagram to show  
people I was visiting.

March 10th, 2016

### Dear Dad,

### I'm dropping out of school. I've been fighting with myself for the last week if I should stay home with you and help Mom out. We've got Visiting Angels coming in to help out, but they can't be here at night and Mom needs more than two hours of sleep each night. I know you want me to finish school, but I really think I need to stay home. I'm going to ask you about it later today, but I wanted to get this down in case you tell me to go back to school, so there might be more to this later.

### Wow. So, I asked you point blank "Dad do you want me to come home?" I was expecting you to tell me no, go back to SWAU. But you didn't. You told "I want you to stay here with me." You told me to drop out and stay home with you.

### I can no longer deny that things are bad with you. That YOU know things are bad and you want your favorite kid to stay home with you. I'm going to call the school in the morning and tell them I'm not coming back. From now, it'll be you and me, Dad! And Zane.

### I love you.

March 20th, 2016

### Dear Dad,

### I can see why Mom isn't getting much sleep. I've been staying out on the couch so you can tell me if you need anything. Most of the time, I just lay awake and listen to your heavy breathing (even with the oxygen) or hear you move around on the recliner to get comfortable. You live on the recliner now. We got a hospital bed for you in my old bedroom so you can sleep on your back but you're pretty content with the recliner. You're super weak, Dad. I didn't realize it until I had to help you stand up, and even that was a struggle. Your arms look awful. They're all bruised and you've lost a lot of muscle. It's hard to believe those arms used to be the strongest things I knew. I had to help you shave today, which was actually pretty cool! I liked helping you, it made me feel good. Useful. I'm going to help you from now on, so don't worry about growing a beard! Zane came over today and I got a really awesome of you guys together! I'll have to show you later.

### I love you.

### I took this picture the day my Dad died. He had been having a rough morning, so Bridgette came over with Zane. I think after a few minutes being there, we both realized Dad was going to need to say goodbye to Zane. That he wasn't going to get to see Zane grow up. Zane would never know his grandfather, and it would be up to us to keep him alive for Zane. I was sent out of the room after a while, and I took Zane with me. The reason why I'm making this face was because Zane sneezed in my mouth and it distracted me from the horrible feeling that something bad was going to happen.

### I still can't really describe what happened that day. Some parts stick out in my mind so clearly, while others are a blur. I just remember so much screaming and crying and noise and begging God at one point to just let Dad die. To just end his suffering, end ALL of our suffering. We ended up taking him to Seton Hospital. The whole ride there I was praying to God not to let it end like this. To not let my father die scared and in pain. To let us make it to the hospital so they could take care of him. When we got there, I had to wait in the waiting room of the ER with Bridgette. I remember that I couldn't stop shaking. I had so much adrenaline and fear running through my body that I was shivering and shaking and I kept going to bathroom because I felt like I going to pee my pants. I remember going back to his room and seeing him in the bed, an oxygen mask over his face and bare chested. He hadn't been given the meds yet, so I went up to him and put my hand on his shoulder and I told him "I love you, Dad. It's going to be okay. I love you. Thank you for everything you did for me. I love you." He was able to say it back, garbled though it was through the mask, I could still understand him. Bridgette got to talk to him as well and then we were banished back to the waiting room. I ended up leaving and going back to the house with the pastor of my church at the time, and I remember thinking "Please don't die until I get back."

### When I got back, he was in his room, all plugged up and drugged up. The doctors said we had about 24 hours left with him and I tried so hard not to fall apart. Bridgette and Mom needed me to be strong. Mom couldn't stop crying. She talked to Grandma and Auntie Lisa. We didn't have 24 hours.

### Bridgette and I left the room at one point so they could change Dad's clothes and get him comfortable. Bridgette left after that and I went back into the room. After a few minutes, Mom noticed that Dad wasn't breathing anymore and she alerted the nurse, who basically confirmed that Dad had died. We had to wait fifteen minutes for a doctor to come in and make everything official. It was just me and Mom. Mom kept touching Dad's hand and kissing his forehead. "He's getting cold." She kept saying that. I wanted to tell her to shut up. By the time the doctor showed up, Dad was starting to turn pale and his forehead was completely cold.

### "I'm sorry to this, but he's gone. Time of death 11:43pm." I prayed for a different outcome. I prayed that the nurse had been wrong and that the doctor would find a heartbeat, that we would have a few more hours with him. I had watched too much TV and thought I would be given a miracle.

### The only thing I was given was the responsibility to call my siblings and tell them Dad was gone. I called Bridgette first. She had barely left the hospital and was going home to check on Zane. I called Jonathan next. He didn't say anything beyond "Okay. I'm coming home soon. How's Mom?" "Crying." My older sister, Shannon was my last call. I didn't know how I was going to tell the firstborn of the family that our father was dead. "Hello?" "It's over. He's gone." "Okay. Where are you?" "At the hospital with Mom. She's talking to grandma." "Okay. Me and Kiana are coming up." "Okay." Shannon was quiet. A quiet I had never heard from her before. Shannon was loud, she had to be with three younger siblings all screaming to be heard. But she was quiet that night.

### This is the last text message I ever got from my Dad, who passed away from complications of lung cancer at the age of 78.

March 26th, 2016

### You died last night. 11:43 pm is when the doctor called time of death. We took you to Seton Hospital after an agonizing afternoon and got you clean, comfortable and warm and you just...passed away. No more pain, no more shortness of breath, no more fatigue, weakness, no more suffering. You're gone. Yesterday was without a doubt the worst day of my life and if I could ask God for one thing, I would ask that you never remember what happened before we went to the hospital. That you don't remember running a fever all day. That you don't remember being unable to catch your breath. That you don't remember seizing in front of me. That you don't remember Mom telling the EMTs not to save you because you didn't want that. I hope you never remember me grabbing your shoulders and screaming at you to live. Don't remember any of it. I'll remember it for the both of us.

April 1st, 2016

### Dear Dad,

### Today's April Fool's Day. Today is also the day we buried you. I wish those two were connected. I wish I could say "JUST KIDDING! APRIL FOOL'S!" and that you're home and alive and watching TV or taking a nap. But you're not. You're gone. You were taken to the funeral home and cremated. You don't have a body anymore. You're just a pile of ashes Mom swept into a nice urn. Shannon came with Andre and Kiana. It was really cold today, Dad. Cold and rainy. It was actually the perfect weather to bury you in, to me. You always hear about the weather at someone's funeral being sunny, but not today. We didn't invite a lot of people. Just the family, along with Dawn, Mrs. Kemper and a few other people. We wanted to keep it small, and have your memorial service open to everyone else. Your tomb – Jesus I can't believe it. Your tomb is really nice. Your whole life condensed down to a name, two dates and a phrase. I've been crying since we took you to the hospital. I hate it. I want to stop crying. I want you to be here.

### I love you.

April 6th, 2016

### Dear Dad,

### I've been struggling with your death. I've been wrestling with what you, me and Mom went through your last day here on earth. I've been fighting with myself for some of the things I though in those final hours. I've been thinking back to that day, and my actions, over and over. I can't stop thinking:

### Is there something – anything- I could've done to prolong your life? Did I miss the warning signs that afternoon? Could I have said something to either Mom or the stupid hospice nurse to prompt them into taking action sooner so your final day could've been a lot smoother? Or would that have only taken more time away from me and Mom?

### My thoughts are all jumbled together and they go from one extreme to the other. Am I wrong for wishing that your suffering would end, even if that end was horrible and brutal on all of us? Am I wrong for wishing that I had died with you in that hospital room? Is it natural to not want to live without a parent?

### I haven't been sleeping well since you died. And if I'm honest with you and myself, I haven't been sleeping well since Mom called me and said you had less than three months to live. I haven't been sleeping well since I made the decision to drop out of school and spend your final weeks with you. I haven't been sleeping well since I found out about the cancer while in Washington State. The last two weeks have been almost torturous because at night, my grief is at its strongest. The sound of you gasping for breath rings in my ear and I can see your dead body behind my closed eyelids.

### I'm afraid to go to sleep. I don't want to have any nightmares about you. I'm terrified of seeing you in my dreams and yelling at me for what happened that afternoon. I'm scared you'll tell me that I should've let you die in the guest bedroom and not forced you to stay awake and alive long enough to die in the hospital. I'm petrified that you'll tell me I made the wrong decision in forcing you to come back.

### Both Mom and Bridgette tell me that I saved you. When you were gasping for air and seizing right in front of me, I grabbed your face and told you to look at me. Your eyes were wide open but unfocused. Your mouth was clamped shut tight. I shook you, but didn't get a response. You were dead, Dad. You were dead right in front of me. I started screaming "Dad! Dad! Look at me!" I just shook you until you seemed to come to and looked at me. You were so scared, Dad. Now you were alert, but your eyes were filled with fear.

### Did I make the right decision? I'm torn. Part of me says I shouldn't have brought you back. Another part says I did the right thing, not allowing you to die like that, scared and suffering. A selfish part of me wanted you to live, even if it wouldn't have been a good life. I haven't shared any of these thoughts with anyone. Mom was the only one there to witness that hellacious afternoon with me. But she seems to have made her peace with your death, as she should. For everything that went wrong that day, once we got you to the hospital, you were given some meds and sent off to La La Land and a peaceful death. Everyone keeps telling me to focus on that and a part of me, a huge part of me, is so relieved you left this earth in peace, that you didn't suffer and you weren't scared. I couldn't ask for anything more.

### I love you.

April 8th, 2016

Dear Dad,

I haven't said a lot about your death to people, mainly because if I don't talk about it or acknowledge it, it can't hurt me as much. It's not healthy by any means, but it's the only thing getting me through each minute of each day.

Today marks exactly two weeks since you passed, so Mom and I went grocery shopping. It's never bothered me before, but today as Mom and I walked down each aisle, we both said things like "oh, we used to buy this for Dad," or "Well, I don't need to buy this for your Dad anymore." As we stood in front of the milk, I looked at the shopping cart completely void of anything you liked and I almost couldn't breathe. I mentioned to my Mom that it was weird to be shopping without getting things for you. I spoke because if I didn't, I would've burst into tears.

I never thought something as simple as not buying food for you would affect me like this. It just drives home the point that my life will never be the same, not without you.

I love you.

April 16th, 2016

### Dear Dad,

### Jesus fucking Christ, Dad! You just DIED and people are asking me when/if I'm going back to school. When I first dropped out, they all said I made the right decision to stay at home with you, but you're DEAD now, so when I am heading back up? STOP ASKING ME THAT. Whenever people ask when I'm going back, I want to scream in their face "Fucking never! That's when I'm going back! Get out of my face!" I'm only attending this stupid school because YOU asked me to and it was only two hours away. But not that you're not here to see me graduate, what's the point? What's the point in looking out over the crowd and NOT seeing you? This was all for you and you're not going to see the end result so, guess what? This means nothing to me.

### I don't want to go back to school right now. I don't want to take summer classes. I don't even know if I will want to go back in the fall. When people ask me when I'm going back, I feel like they're asking me when I am going back to my life? And the answer is never. I'm never going back to my life because I don't have that life anymore. I have an old life, sitting in Keene, Texas, right where I left it with my friends, my jobs, my bosses, and the few good things I liked about SWAU. Like someone left in the middle of a sentence and is waiting for the person to come back and finish it. I'm not that person anymore. Asking me to go back, to me, is asking me to get over your death. And that pisses me off, Dad.

### Maybe I don't want to go back to SWAU. Maybe I want to go to a new college so I can start over. Maybe I want to go back to Washington State where I have zero memories of you. Maybe I want to stay in the house with Mom and be angry about you day in and day out for the foreseeable future. Maybe I will want to go back in the fall. Maybe I will have made enough headway in my grief that I'll be able to go back and be okay. I don't know. I don't know how I'll feel tomorrow, next week, next month, next year. I don't know. So, stop asking me.

### I want people to stop offering to pay my tuition at a college I don't really like (except my friends) and feel like I'm getting a subpar education at. I want people to stop telling me that they want me to finish there because they think it'll be good for me. I don't know what's good for me, so how can they know? How can they know what'll be good for me when fall semester rolls around? You're dead, Dad. I can't think past that. I want to mourn you without feeling pressured to hurry up and be past it by the time school starts back in August. I want them to leave me alone. I want you to be here.

### I love you.

April 25th, 2016

Dear Dad,

It's been exactly one month without you. It feels like the last thirty days have flown by and yet...it still feels like I just left the hospital after telling you goodnight for the last time. Time. It's such a funny thing to me now. I don't measure it the way I did before. My days blend together and every hour seems to crawl by until I look at the clock and realize I've been sitting in your recliner for hours without saying a word.

It doesn't feel like you're gone, which is probably good and bad. Most days I feel like you're just in another room and if I got up and walk over, you'd be there, sitting in your office listening to jazz on Pandora and working on the bills. Or outside working in the yard since it's a beautiful day.

In my head, you aren't sick. You don't have cancer when I think about you. In my mind, you're the Dad I grew up, strong and healthy and perfect. It's different at night. At night, I lay in bed, straining my ears, listening for your oxygen tank softly puffing air into your lungs. I listen for your sighing as you relive your life in your dreams. I listen for you shifting in the recliner, searching for a more comfortable position. At night, Dad, I miss you the most.

I spent almost three weeks on the couch keeping you company at night. It really was just the two of us. You would make a noise and I would bolt upright, "Dad you okay?" And you would chuckle and say "I'm fine, Brini, go back to sleep." I can't go back to sleep anymore. People say it takes time. Time.

I miss you, Dad. I miss you like the sun misses the moon during the day, like earth misses the spring during winter. I miss you like a child misses their favorite toy when they're gone. I miss you like someone misses a limb; they didn't know how much they needed it until it was gone. I miss you. I miss more than I feel capable of sometimes. Some nights I feel as if my grief will swallow all of my memories of you, so I can't miss you anymore.

And yet. There are some days when I'm okay. When I think you and I begin to laugh because you and me, Dad? Man, we had some good times. We laughed and laughed, did we, Dad? We had fun. We had love. We had each other. I had you for 26 years, which might not seem like a lot to some people, but the years even more special to me.

I struggle, Dad. I struggle to be okay, struggle to be strong, struggle with how my future looks like without you. I feel lost in a way I haven't in a long time. I don't know what to do, and yet I do know. Maybe the problem is I don't know how to do it without you. I don't know how to finish college without you to see me walk across the stage. I don't know how to get my first job as an adult and not be able to tell you. I don't know how to get my first place on my own and not show it off to you proudly. I don't know how to move away Texas knowing you're no longer a phone call away if I get homesick or feel like I can't do it anymore.

Time heals everything, they say. You'll move on, they say. I don't want to move on. I don't want to let go of you. I want to be happy, and I want you with me every step of the way. If that means being sad, so be it. It's going to take a while, but I swear I'm going to make you proud, Dad. I'm going to make you so proud of me until we can see each other again.

It's just going to take some time.

I love you.

June 2nd, 2016

### Dear Dad,

### You know what? I can't handle this. How the hell am I supposed to go through my day and ignore everything that happened the day you died? How am I supposed to push out the sights and sounds of those long hours? Did I know deep down that this, was it? That you were going to die just before midnight?

### I've been trying to prepare myself for this the Moment I found out about the cancer, but I was NOT prepared to be in the thick of it. I wasn't prepared for Mom's hysterical crying for you to just breathe. I wasn't prepared for Bridgette to be screaming at the EMTs not to save your life because you had a DNR. I wasn't prepared to even have to use that in the first place. I wasn't prepared for the chaos of the EMTs and the ambulance. I wasn't prepared to call Jonathan and Shannon and tell them you're going to die at any Moment. I wasn't prepared for any of that shit!

### I always told Mom and Bridgette that I wanted to be there for your last breath. I wanted to hold your hand and let you go peacefully, but from the comfort of a hospital room with you drugged to high heaven after everyone got a chance to say goodbye. It wasn't like that, Dad. Instead of that peaceful journey, it was hell on earth, leaving my imagination tainted beyond repair. I'm ashamed to admit there were some Moments when it looked like you really were going to die in pain and distress, and I fled the room. I didn't want my last image of you to be staring at the ceiling wide eyed, your mouth gaping open and dead. I didn't want that.

### I feel like a liar, like a coward. I feel weak. The reality is of course, that everything was okay in the end. We made it to the hospital, I was able to say goodbye and you were put on drugs and when you died, you were warm, comfortable and safe. But what happened in my old bedroom has shaken me and changed me and damaged me in ways I can't put into words.

### I feel lost. I feel empty. I feel like I don't know what to do next simply because I don't know how to live in a world with you, Dad. And being as truthful as I've ever been with myself...I don't know if I want to live in a world without you.

### I've struggled with suicidal thoughts since the sixth grade. You and Mom know...well you KNEW this. You knew I was borderline obsessed with the subject and everything about it. I've sat in the kitchen in the middle of the night, holding a knife to my wrist, wondering if I had the guts to do it. I've sat on my bed, looking down at a bottle of Tylenol, thinking if I could muscle past my fear of choking to death, I could swallow a whole bottle. I've stood on top of a building and felt that adrenaline surge and a voice in my head saying "JUMP!". I've been through that and have always just backed away, put the bottle away, put the knife in the sink and never said anything because I didn't want to do that to you.

### Now? What am I living for now?

### I know how this sounds, Dad, I do. I know how suicide affects the people you leave behind. I can only imagine the impact it would leave on the family so soon after you. Mom always tells me that suicide is permanent solution to a temporary problem. My grief feels like a permanent problem. This numbness and fear of living without you feels never ending. I feel like I'm trapped in my mind, suffocating under the memories of that last week with you, especially not realizing it was your LAST week. Everyone keeps telling me that I'll move on eventually and that pain will lessen and it will become a little easier every day. That I'll make it through this because I am strong.

### I don't want to move on, Dad. I don't want to be strong. I don't want to make any decisions about my future. I just want to be with you.

### I love you.

June 18th, 2016

### Dear Dad,

I spent all day trying to figure out what to say. This time last year, we were joking around that you wouldn't be around for the next Father's Day. I laughed because I didn't believe it. I've never spent this day without you. Even when I was off finding myself, I always made sure I was home to celebrate this day with you. I'm sorry I didn't go visit you today. I just couldn't do it. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to go see you.

I'm always thinking about you, Dad. I'm always thinking about the things you've taught me, the stories you told, the jokes you cracked, the love you showed Mom and all of us. You showed me what it really means to take care of your family.

You were the best father I could've ever asked for. You showed me so much the 26 years we had together. You're my father. You'll always be my father. You're always with me. I miss you, today and for all the days to come.

Happy Father's Day, Dad.

I love you.

This was taken the last Father's Day  
we had together.

June 25th, 2016

### Dear Dad,

Happy 36th wedding anniversary, Dad. Mom is trying not to show it, but she's pretty sad today. I know maybe a fraction of how Mom feels and how she's dealing with. She's cried every day the first two weeks you were gone, and even before then. She would cry on the phone with either Grandma or Auntie Lisa. She would cry in front of me. She's been struggling to deal with all the responsibilities that you usually took care of. She sleeps with the light on and music on her iTouch now. She can't stand the silence. She witnessed several bad days, weeks with you, including a super bad hospital visit in October when the doctors told you guys to be prepared and I was getting ready to come home. Bridgette told me about it. She and Josh came to get me when she was pregnant with Zane and she told me in the car that one night things were really bad and the doctors told her and Mom that you were going to die and they didn't know how to tell me that Bridgette was coming to get me to say goodbye. I was shaken that day. You could've died and I would've been stuck at school without the chance to say goodbye. I really think I would've killed myself if I hadn't had the chance to say goodbye.

### I still could, really.

### I know Mom is struggling, but is it the same as me? Does she wish she could've died alongside you that night? Is she just as haunted as I am by what happened that day as I am? Or has she been able to somehow make her peace with it and is suffering the typical sadness and sorrow and anxiety all widows go through? I talk to her about it sometimes, but I don't want to make her sad. She tells me "I have the hope that I will see your Dad again when God comes back." She says knowing that brings her comfort and even though she's still sad, she's okay. Every now and then, she'll start crying and she'll ask me if she did the right thing with you. If she was a good helper to you when you were still alive. Even though you complained and fought her sometimes, did she do a good job with you? I tell her yes. I saw it when I came home. You depended on Mom for everything and it wasn't a bad thing. You only wanted her because you loved her. You loved her so much, Dad. I could see it. I can't wait for you guys to be together again.

### I love you.

Sept. 20th, 2016

### Dear Dad,

### Today is your birthday. And I hate it. 79 years old. You were just six months away from making 79 years old. I'm pissed. I know it's not your fault, you were tired and you were ready to go. But I wasn't. I wasn't ready for you to throw in the towel. I wasn't ready to watch you take your last breath in that hospital room. I wasn't ready to go call Bridgette, Jonathan and Shannon and tell them you were gone. I wasn't ready to watch Mom cry silently and hold your hand and kiss your head as we waited for the funeral home to come pick you up. I wasn't ready for you to die, Dad. Not now, not 10 years from now, not ever.

### I feel like you just gave up, Dad. And that's not fair, because you tried so hard. You fought. You fought through two broken wrists, through having to up your oxygen intake, through being so weak you couldn't even stand. You tried so hard to keep going, Dad. But you couldn't. Not anymore. And that's not your fault. But I. miss you. So much.

But you know what? 79 years old. What a milestone, old man! I went to visit you last weekend with Mom and Bridgette. I bought you a card! You would always say "at least one of my children remembered my birthday." Is it weird that I keep reminding myself "don't forget to call Dad and tell him happy birthday"? Anyway, I'm doing okay! I'm back in school, like you asked and I won't let you down this time. I'll finish, I swear. I think I'm on the right path this time. I hope I'm making you proud. I'm doing my best, I hope it's enough. I think about you every day and I miss you like crazy. Happy birthday.

### I love you.

I took this picture when I came home from Washington  
State. It's one of my favorite pictures and the one  
I decided to use for his birthday post

Nov 24th, 2016

### Dear Dad,

Happy Thanksgiving Dad. Doesn't seem real this is the first thanksgiving without you. Without football on the TV, you making up another thanksgiving origin story. I only had two more thanksgivings with you. Holidays are now bittersweet to me, wonderful memories mixed with the fact that any new memories I make will now be without you. I missed you today, just liked I have missed you the last eight months and will miss you for all future thanksgivings to come. With that being said, I will take comfort in the memories of you sitting in your recliner and complaining loudly "sure wish I had a nice piece of pecan pie!" with Mom telling you to get up and go get your own slice because the kitchen is closed.

I love you.

This picture was actually taken back in 2014.  
I didn't realize at the time it was one of  
the last Thanksgivings I would have with him.

Nov. 27th, 2016

### Dear Dad,

### Today was the laying of the Christmas wreaths for the veterans. Bridgette and I got dressed for church and dragged Joshua with us. It was cold, Dad. Like, hella cold. We stood out there all morning because they were taking forever to get the ceremony started. We actually just gave up and decided that we would come out later and bring our own. It's almost Christmas. The semester is really flying by, even if it doesn't feel like it. I might make Dean's list again. We'll see.

### I love you.

My sister's husband took this picture of us, and my sister  
sent it to me. It doesn't show the tears silently streaming  
down my face.

Dec. 21rd, 2016

### Dear Dad,

### Zane walked today! Well, he's been walking but today I got him to walk across the kitchen (so he could get my food)! He's so big now, Dad. He's not the baby you held when he was four days old. Time goes on, huh?

### I love you.

### Dec. 22, 2016

### Dear Dad,

It's midnight here. I watched the clock tick over to midnight and when Mom wished me happy birthday, I started crying. You're not here. You can't wish me happy birthday. What's the point in celebrating today when you're not here?

Mom's been super good with me since I got out of school. I've been a moody wreck since I came home and she's been taking care of me, letting me cry and taking me out. She's not good at taking my anger and she shouldn't be. Maybe the day will be better as it goes on.

So, update, Dad. This is what I posted on Facebook: "Today was a good day. Bittersweet, but good. This was my first birthday without my Dad and it felt...weird not having him here to wish me happy birthday when I woke up. My Mom has been an excellent shoulder for me to lean on and I'm so grateful for her. So today was a good day." It was a good day. Mom took me out for lunch and we spent the whole day just hanging out. It was good. I'm still sad, but today was good.

I love you.

Dec. 25th, 2016

### Dear Dad,

### Zane is rolling around in the wrapping paper, Bridgette is on her phone and Mom is looking for Christmas music to play. It's Christmas morning and you're not here. It's hard to believe you were JUST here last Christmas. That you sat in your recliner and opened up all your gifts. You had the oxygen mask on, but you were smiling and you were alive. I hate this, Dad. I want to rip this stupid month off the calendar. I don't want to celebrate my birthday or Christmas. I want to pretend this whole month doesn't exist. I've been struggling big time this month. I've cried in front of Mom a few times and I know she's trying her best with me. I'm hard to comfort sometimes. I get angry and I lash out. I'm trying to keep it together, I am. But it is so hard, Dad.

### Merry Christmas.

### I love you.

Jan. 1st, 2017

Happy New Year, Dad. I love and miss you more than words could ever say.

Jan. 11th, 2017

Dear Dad,

The second semester has started back up. I'm taking some pretty easy classes this time around, but I can still feel that dark cloud hanging over me. Christmas was so much harder than I was expecting it to be.

I'm over my roommate, but I can't do anything about her. And I know you would just tell me to find a way to make it work and so I am. I can't believe it's been 10 months already. Sometimes it feels like you've been gone for years. And sometimes I still expect to see you sitting in the living room. Every time Mom and I drive by Seton, I always say "bye Dad." I wish I could say "hi Dad."

I love you.

March 25th, 2017

Dear Dad,

11:43pm. That's when the doctor looked at me and Mom and said that you were gone. That you weren't coming back. That I wouldn't hear your voice anymore, feel your arms around, see you again. It's hard to believe that it's been 365 days without you. This is the longest we've ever been apart. Even when I was living in Washington, I could still call you whenever I was lonely or really missed you. Even being away at SWAU, you were only a two-hour car ride away. So much has happened in a year. Time is still a funny thing to me. It's been a year, and yet. I feel like I just left the hospital. I feel like I just told you 'goodnight' for the last time. I go back and read the text messages you sent me and I hear your voice in my head. I wear your old watch. I had the ring I bought you resized for me so I could wear it. These help me stay connected to you, but there isn't anything in this world I wouldn't give to have you back, even for one day, one hour, one minute. I hope I'm on the right path. I hope I'm making you proud. I hope you get to see everything that I accomplished one day. I hope we get to see it together. I hope I get to see you again. Good night, Dad. I love you.

April 30th, 2017

Dear Dad,

Today was not a good day, Dad. I miss you every single Moment of every single day, and some days hurt more than others. Today when I woke up, my brain decided to make sure that I knew that you were gone and I wasn't going to see you again in my lifetime. My brain drilled into me the statement that I hadn't seen you in over a year, hadn't heard your voice, hadn't felt you hug me. We are our own worst enemy, and sometimes that comes into the form of a grief we feel we could drown in. I couldn't stop thinking about you all day, about how much I missed you and how sad I was still over you. I was pretty down in the dumps and I couldn't understand why.

I've been having a good month. Recently I had been feeling like I was finally getting back to my old self, at least on the inside. Like I was finally beginning to be okay. I've struggled with depression, even before you passed away, and this felt like I was trapped under a cloud of grief and it took almost all day to climb out from underneath it and even then, it took me calling my Mom and talking to her about it. I don't like feeling like I'm not in control of my own emotions but I'm beginning to realize that my grief will follow me for the rest of my life.

But it doesn't have to own me. I can allow myself to mourn you in the Moments I feel it, and then square my shoulders, knowing that you would want me to keep going. I have too much that I still need to do in your name to let my depression get the better of me and throwing me off track again. I have to keep putting my foot in front of the other and know that I'm going to have bad days, but I have to keep on keeping on.

Today was not a good day. But tomorrow is a new day.

### I love you.

June 18th, 2017

Happy Father's Day, Pop. I'm not feeling very happy myself, I used to look forward to this day. But, we keep on keeping on, right? I keep telling myself not to get angry when I see people posting happy Father's Day things for their Dads and the most I can do is talk to your tomb. I want to hit something. I want to hit someone. I want to make people just as angry as I am. Mom tells me there's no point in getting mad at other people and she's right. I generally stay off social media and Instagram and Facebook so I don't say something I won't regret. I really miss you.

I love you.

Aug. 15th, 2017

Dear Dad,

So when I got this shirt I couldn't help but laugh. "Ayyy this shirt has my name on it! I got to show this to Dad!" I started arranging it on the hanger and when I snapped the picture, I remembered.

I had to sit down on my bed and remind myself that it's okay to cry. It's okay to have that pain in your chest and not be able to catch your breath. It's okay to miss you, Dad with every fiber of your being. It's okay to be sad.

Just like it's okay to wipe your tears, catch your breath and put the shirt on and remind yourself that everything you do, you do in your memory.

Just keep moving forward

### I love you.

Sept. 20th, 2017

Dear Dad,

Spent all day trying to think of what to say. Eighty years old would've been an incredible milestone and I honestly thought you'd be here for it. Your birthday wasn't as hard as I thought it would be and maybe that's a good thing and maybe it's not. I chose to focus on being able to think about you and not wanting to burst into tears instead of making myself angry that you weren't here anymore. I'm a little late, but here's what I wanted to say; Happy Birthday Dad. I'll see you in Heaven

Oct. 1st, 2017

### Dear Dad,

### I didn't get a chance to tell you! I'm the new Student Association Vice President! I know I always talk about how much I hate this school, so what better way to try and make it better than from the inside out? I was actually trying to transfer to UNT when the election for SA rolled around and I just had this voice in the back on my head telling me to run. I decided to put it in God's hands and I said "Okay dude, if you want me here, get me elected. If you don't, help me leave." My speech was terrible, it was literally just me telling a bunch of jokes and dropping a few truth bombs, but enough people liked it! They elected me! I have my own cabinet of minions and I have a right-hand man who I wish you had had the chance to meet. His name is Ridge and he's a great guy. Everyone on SA is pretty awesome, I'm lucky to be working with this group! My classes are hard this year, so I'm trying to find a good balance between my FOUR jobs and time to go to tutoring and do my homework. I finally feel like I'm on the right track, Dad. I think I'm going to make you proud.

### I love you.

Nov. 7th, 2017

### Dear Dad,

### So much has happened. Sometimes it feels like...I don't know how to describe it. Sometimes I feel like I'm okay, even though you're good. Sometimes I feel like I walking in front of a car late at night and hoping I die. Sometimes it's good days and I can talk about you and I'm still sad but I'm happy to tell people about you. Sometimes it's bad days and me forcing myself not to cry in front of people I know. Sometimes it's me being depressed the entire month of December and having fun all of June. Sometimes it's okay just having Mom around and sometimes it's me being angry at everyone wishing their Dads Happy Father's Day because why should they get to be happy? Sometimes it's being so overwhelming angry, Dad. Angry at everyone and everything. And sometimes it's visiting your grave and only crying a little bit.

### It's hard, Dad. It's hard as hell. I'm graduating next fall and it is a constant struggle to keep pushing towards that goal and ignoring the voice in my head screaming "HE'S DEAD, WHAT'S THE FUCKING POINT OF GRADUATING!". I don't know what's going to happen when God comes back. I know I'll see you again, but for how long? The Bible says when God takes us to Heaven, everything will be right as rain and no more sadness. But when does that happen? While God is judging everyone, will I have the chance to see you? To talk to you? To tell you everything that happened after you died? When you get taken to Heaven, will you remember being sick? Will you remember closing your eyes and letting go? Everyone else when Jesus wakes you up, it'll be like you were sleeping. Will you even realize you were dead? Would I even want you to know that?

### I don't know. Part of me doesn't want you to deal with that but God takes away our memory and makes everything okay, will it be okay to tell you? I don't want to make you sad. I don't want to tell you how hard it was without you, how lost I feel, how scared I am of the voice in the back of my head that says "you don't have to stay sad. You can kill yourself." I have anxiety now. Sometimes when Mom calls me, I still get that scared, anxious "oh god, what happened to Dad now?" feeling. Whenever Mom gets sick, I start panicking "what if Mom gets sick like Dad? What if Mom dies? I can't handle losing both parents!"

### I know I'm being extra. I have a lot of anxiety since you died and I'm trying to contain and that makes me angry and lash out at people, but I'm trying to be better. Thanksgiving break is right around the corner. I'm not looking forward to Christmas.

### I love you.

### Dec. 4, 2017

### Dear Dad,

### This is going to be the last letter I write for a while. Accepting that my grief will always be a part of me means accepting that you're gone. Means accepting that no matter how hard I wish, you're not coming back. And that's okay. It's okay to still be sad, but it's also okay to be happy. To have good days. To have great days where I forget that you're gone, but when I remember, I'm not as sad. It's okay to remember your jokes, your laugh, your life. It's okay to move on.

### Jonathan has been married two years now, and he and Dani have a daughter now, Ella Marie. He has an amazing house and he's doing so well for himself now, Dad. You would be really proud of him.

### Shannon is doing good, and Kiana is such a smart, brave, wonderful little girl. He has such a bright future ahead of her, and she has a great support system with the family.

### Bridgette and Josh are expanding their family with another boy! They want to name him Finn, which is...fine. It's not the name I would've chosen but whatever.

### Mom is doing great, Dad. She has really found a new sense of living with you being gone. She travels more, she does more things, she puts herself out there. She's come quite a ways from the woman you knew, but not in a bad way.

### I'm okay, too. I still have bad days, but I have good days too. I'm only two semesters from graduation and even though it will be bittersweet not to see you in the audience when I walk across the stage, everything I do now is for you, in your name. For the rest of my life, I will be striving to make you proud of me. I don't know what will happen when God comes back, but it is my hope that I will do enough to be granted my wish: for God to look past my mistakes, past and future, and into my heart and allow me to be reunited with you. As Mom is always telling me: "We have that hope."

### I have that hope.

### I love you.

