Five days ago, October 11, 2024, I lost my father. The gravity of that statement is almost too heavy to bear. Even now, as I sit here, trying to put my emotions into words, it feels surreal. My dad, my everything, is gone, and with him, a piece of my heart.
Growing up, my father was my rock. After my parents divorced when I was just seven, I went to live with him. We became a team—a duo navigating life’s challenges together. He provided everything I needed, especially love. We shared laughter, dreams, and countless memories. My world revolved around him, and I know his revolved around me too.
About seven years ago, life brought him to Idaho, where he moved in with my family. Although he often missed California, we built a happy home together. However, that happiness was interrupted when his health began to decline. It started with a severe illness that nearly took him from me. From that moment, he was never quite the same. I stepped into the role of caregiver, a position I approached with love but also with an aching heart. He was no longer just my dad; he became someone who resented my help, someone who felt trapped in a body that was failing him. It was heartbreaking to witness.
The hardest decision of my life came when we had to find an assisted living home for him. I hoped that there he would find the support he needed, but for him, it felt like a betrayal. For nearly a year, he barely spoke to me, and I mourned the relationship we once had. The role reversal was devastating; I was his caretaker, and in his eyes, that seemed to overshadow the love we shared.
When my father had a severe fall, it was a wake-up call for all of us. Alone and in pain, he lay on the floor for days. The sight of him hurt and dehydrated was unbearable. I became his Power of Attorney, and with that came an avalanche of responsibility that felt like an anchor dragging me deeper into despair. He was no longer able to drive or make decisions for himself. It was a profound loss for both of us.
After enduring an awful first assisted living experience, we finally found a place that felt like home. It had beautiful views and caring staff who genuinely looked after him. Yet, I noticed he began to withdraw. He stopped engaging with others and seemed to lose his will to live. The guilt I felt was suffocating. I could see his spirit fading, and it broke my heart to think he felt imprisoned in his own life.
The day he passed, I spoke with his nurse about his oxygen levels, which had been alarmingly low. As we wrapped up our conversation, I thanked her for the update and for her phone call. I never could have imagined that less than a minute later, I would receive that fateful call. “Wendy, your dad is gone.”
Time stood still. I couldn’t process it; my body moved on autopilot as I rushed to the facility. When I arrived, I was met with comforting embraces from the staff, who understood the weight of my loss. I walked to his room, and there he lay—my father, still and silent. The reality of it crashed over me like a tidal wave. I would never hear his voice again, never feel his warm embrace or see his smile.
In that moment, everything changed. One breath marked the end of our journey together. My daddy’s last breath changed life forever. I am left with the echoes of memories and a profound ache in my heart. He will never see my sons, his beloved grandsons or my husband, nor will he share in the joys of our lives anymore.
As I navigate this immense grief, I find comfort in the love we shared and the lessons he imparted. My father taught me resilience, love, and the importance of family. While he may be gone from this world, he will forever remain a part of me. His legacy will live on in my heart and in the lives of my sons and my husband.
So, to you, Daddy, thank you for being my everything. I love you more than words can say, and I will carry you with me always. I will love you for all eternity. I miss you beyond words.
In my Dad’s words, “Here are my thoughts…you may have all of them, some of them, or none of them.”