The Highwayman, My Earthly Protector Gone

Losing a parent can be tough at any age. When that parent passes away unexpectedly a few hours after you last talked to them is worse. But, having lung cancer and losing one of them can be devastating.

You don't really become an adult until you lose your parents. Thankfully I still have my mother. But, my father and I always joked we had cockroach DNA. We outlived so many trials and tribulations, I always told him God made us part of the cockroach family.

Reaching out to my father

On March 27, 2021, I texted my father at approximately 8 pm, a picture of my daughter, standing in a white dress on the marina, with the sun setting over the water in the background. She was his first grandchild born to his first child. She's my only child considering I was diagnosed at 33. He simply texted back, "She is absolutely beautiful".

At that moment remembered I scheduled my next set of scans for his birthday weekend (around May 13). I envisioned us getting the results and then going to a celebratory dinner for his birthday and good scans. As soon as I remembered this that night I called him immediately. When he answered, I could tell he was in no pain. My father is a disabled Vietnam vet. He's broken his neck, been shot, stabbed, and had 5-6 heart attacks throughout his life. The doctor told us he would not survive one after the 4th heart attack. But God always has a plan for our life, and that wasn't it.

Brining my father happiness

When he was in pain from his neck, I could always tell because he took Percocet for it and his speech was a little slurred. On this night, I could hear the smile and excitement in his voice when I said, "Guess who has a doctor's appointment on your birthday?" To which he replied, "ME!". So I asked again and he guessed, "YOU!'

I finally said "correct. And we are going to your birthday dinner". I made that appointment so I could celebrate Mother's Day and my Dad's birthday together. I'll never forget how happy he sounded. It is the last moment I remember and will always be grateful I was able to make him happy that night.

My father, my hero

My mom and he are my biggest supporters. They throw fundraisers and help me raise money for other treatments. He always gave us cash for Christmas. The man did not believe in debit cards so paid cash for everything. And his favorite song was "My Way" by Frank Sinatra. He told my mom when she was 26 he wanted that played at his funeral. He was even telling us this up to a few weeks before his death.

That night, after talking with him, I texted him about 2 hours later. He never failed to respond, especially to the type of text I sent him. I can only be happy and take joy in the fact he didn't read it. Because once again I needed him for a situation I had going on. I cried because he wasn't answering or calling me back and looking back, that problem was the least of problems.

I awoke at 5 a.m. to my mother calling me. They divorced over 25 years ago, but they still loved one another and took care of each other. Through her sobs, I heard her say, "Baby, you need to come home". It was at that point I knew, the man who was my Earthly protector and hero, the only man I ever truly loved, went to be with our Lord. I just asked, "Is it dad? Is he dead?". When she told me yes, I think my world came tumbling down. We were so close, I needed him. He was always the one to not worry when I did stupid things because he knew life was short. He lived like there was no tomorrow. I can only thank God he didn't have to pass away at a nursing home or hospital. He did it "His Way".

There isn't a day I don't think of him

There isn't a day that goes by I don't think of him. I have his cologne so I can still smell him and the childhood memories come pouring back in. Shortly after, my sister moved from North Carolina to California. My mother is still in Atlanta so we are still close in distance. So much happened after he passed. This year has been a whirlwind and the worst in my life. I would rather be told I had stage 4 lung cancer over and over and yet still have my dad here.

He was larger than life. But, we are all dying from the day we are born. And I will rejoice when I see him on the other side. In the meantime, I can't bring myself to sell his car though I need the money. I open the sunroof and sing "The Highwaymen" at the top of my lungs. And when his favorite, Johnny Cash goes to sing, I look over at the empty passenger seat but feel his presence.

Those words Johnny Cash sang, "I fly a starship across the universe divide, and when I reach the other side I'll find a place to rest my spirit if I can.  Perhaps I may become a highwayman again. Or I may simply be a single drop of rain. But I will remain. I'll be back again and again and again and again and again and again." I know he's watching over me now and patiently waiting for the day I go home, not to the childhood home my sister and mom cleaned out, with so many memories, but Home to be with him and our Lord. I will write more about him, but for now, I'm already crying.

"Perhaps I may become a highwayman again."

So, living with lung cancer just got so much harder. And then I think of him singing, "Or I may simply be a drop of rain. But I will remain. I'll be back again and again and again." And he does remain, in my heart, around my neck, and I still feel his presence. I never got to say goodbye, but we both knew the last time was it. We could see it in each other's eyes. I made my daughter get out of the car and give him a huge hug and I just watched as we pulled away. He was smiling and waving.