Aloha 'Oe

A few weeks ago I received a phone call from Arlene. "Your dad's cancer has spread and it doesn't look good." What? I had no idea there were more problems. Crap. Not good. Not good. Not good. Those words echoed through my head over and over until I thought I might go mad.

I booked a flight to see him and on July 12 I landed in Portland where Uncle Ed, Aunt Alice and cousin Brenda scooped me up and took me to see my dad in the Hood River hospital.

Dad had been put on life support. They had removed half his colon and for a bit, it was touch and go for him. Guess what? He pulled through like the trooper he is. They kept saying "I can't believe how good he is doing." And he did, you know? He pulled every ounce of strength necessary to get home. He walked and sat and joked while being poked and prodded and groped all in the name of getting better and getting home.

When I arrived at the hospital to see my dad, he was on a ventilator. They had removed the tape from his eyes. He was drugged and miserable and it BROKE MY HEART to see him in such disarray. I remember sitting by his bed and holding his hand. I was so very cold in that hospital. Don't they have a heater? They sure charge enough. You would think that they would pay the heating bill. Geesh.

As I held my dad's hand, his warmth coursed through me. And my thoughts played through the song by Pink "Please, please don't leave me."

Do I need to tell you how hard it was to leave when it was time to fly home? I tried so very hard to keep my grown-up-I'm-a-big-girl game face on as I hugged my dad for the last time. Of course, I told him I loved him. Did he really know? Did he know how he had changed my life? Did he know how grateful I was to be a part of his journey? Did he know? Did he know? DID HE KNOW? I left my dad sitting in his bed in the hospital with I.V.'s dripping and monitors flashing. I shut the door to his room and fell into the waiting arms of Uncle ED, Aunt Alice and Brenda. Then I sobbed. I mean I SOBBED. From my toes to the top of my head I cried. NO WAY did he know the depths of my love.

I got home and life resumed. Bills still came. Emails still dinged. Phones still rang. But not a single day went by that I didn't worry and fret and fear for my dad.

He went home with Arlene. He went back to the hospital.

This time the doctors sent him home with hospice. And, indeed, things didn't look good.

I wrote dad nearly every day. Since he and Arlene live in the BOONIES without cell phone coverage and only dial-up internet, (Yep. I'm not joking. Dial-up internet still exists and yes, it's still frustrating.) I decided that I would send a short letter and a blog post daily. I truly believed that if I had an agenda that the good Lord would put his plans on hold and let my dad read all that I had written.

I wrote dad every chance I got. When we left on the motorcycle? I made the group stop for post cards and mailings. I wanted dad to know he was in my thoughts. I NEEDED dad to know he mattered. Ugh. WHY OH WHY do we wait to share our true feelings?

Last night came.

Mark's job has him leaving at midnight on Sunday and Monday night, so he attempts to hit the hay Sunday afternoon to sneak in as much sleep as possible.

The house was quiet. The dogs were sleeping. Jaden was with his friends. Mark was snoozing. I was watching the Olympics and decided that I would get a head-start on writing dad. I sat down to the computer and it hit me. Hard. There isn't much time left and I need to say the words to him.

I wrote "This is the deal, dad. We are nearing the end and I'm freaking out a bit. I know all the right words I should be saying, yet I am a selfish, selfish, selfish girl and I want you here. With me...
I love you. More than words can express. I'm so lucky to have been able to get to know you and love you without bounds. And I do, you know, I love you endlessly."

When I first met my dad, I wrote a blog called "It's a good story. And it's mine." It IS a good story. Unsure whether he had ever read the posting, I put that in the envelope.

I took the dogs outside to do their business. While enjoying the night sky, the cool air on my shoulders the tears began streaming down my face and realization hit me. I uttered the words "I'm never going to see my dad again."

I came upstairs, sealed dad's envelope, kissed it, set it aside for tomorrows mailing, sat on the couch and my phone rang. It was my brother Ron. "Hey. Can I talk to Mark? I've called his phone a few time and he isn't answering." "Sure. But he's sleeping for work tonight. Is everything okay?" "I just want to ask him a question about my motorcycle." You're not a good liar Ronnie. I knew. I knew. I knew. Dad had died.

My all-time-favorite-cartoon-movie-in-the-history-of-EVER is Disney's Lilo and Stitch. I love Lilo. If you haven't seen the movie? Watch it!

The basis of the move is: (According to my search on Bing)

A tale of a young girl's encounter with the galaxy's most wanted extraterrestrial. Lilo is a lonely Hawaiian girl who adopts a small ugly 'dog', whom she names Stitch. Stitch would be the perfect pet if he weren't in reality a genetic experiment who has escaped from an alien planet and crash-landed on earth. Through her love, faith and unwavering belief in "ohana" (the Hawaiian concept of family), Lilo helps unlock Stitch's heart and gives him the one thing he was never designed to have – the ability to care for someone else.

Lilo's parents were killed and Nani (the sister) is left to care for her rambunctious and often difficult younger sister. This dysfunctional family is about to be ripped apart by a Social Worker. Nani sits with Lilo in a hammock and attempts to explain the precarious situation in which she finds themselves. Inevitably, Nani pulls Lilo into her arms and begins to sing:

Aloha 'oe, aloha 'oe
E ke onaona noho i ka lipo
One fond embrace,
A ho'i a'e au,
Until we meet again.

While waiting for Mark to break the news to me, that was the song that played in my head. Over and over and over I heard the words. So, I say loudly. Aloha my dear dad. Rest. Thank you for your warmth. Your hugs. Your love. Your strength. Your kindness. Thank you for giving me your eyes. The curl in your hair. The stubbornness that kept you going against all odds. Your emotional attachment to family and friends. And the silence of my words when my heart and mind are running away.

Most of all? Thanks dad, for letting me share these last years with you. I love you.