Just some thoughts...

It's 11:40 PM EST, and I'm awake with some thoughts, which I thought I'd share with anyone out there. Most of you who read this are family or friends, and already know this, but I need to write it out loud. My dad has cancer. He's been having treatment for over a year now. I've talked about his tumour, his treatment, but I don't often say he has cancer. Because that would mean thinking about him dying. I know that all things work to the glory of God, and that if God chooses to heal my dad by bringing him home to Heaven, then how great would that be. I know that, and I get it. It's my heart that hurts. My dad is, well, he's always been a part of my life. I remember him taking us swimming down at the river, where we'd make "indian paint" by rubbing different rocks together and smearing it on our faces. We'd come home filthy, and my mom would make him hose us off in the front yard before we came inside. I remember him bailing me out of my failed newspaper route. I remember him taking me to the hospital when I cracked my breastbone and separated my shoulder. I remember the day he took me to check out of one school in preparation for going to another because he was going to rehab and I had to go live with my mother. I remember how sad he was when my sister and I went to live with our mother when the two of them separated. I remember the way he often smelled of Obsession. I remember the Christmas when he made peanut butter pies and the smell made me soooooo sick! I remember another Christmas when he set up this elaborate gift scavenger hunt, which ended in a $100 bill, but because I got up early and peeked, when I did it while he was up, I got the steps mixed up and he laughed because he knew straight away that I'd peeked. I will always remember him telling me the story of the night I was born, and how it almost came to happen in the back of a police car. I remember him picking me up from university when I left school, and how he told me so many times that I wasn't a failure for not graduating. I remember all the times he told me that he was proud of me. My dad is an amazing man. Not a superhero, just a man. But he's my dad - and I'm proud of him too. This last year has been physically really tough on him. He's tired, sick, and battle-worn. But he isn't giving up. And that's why I'm so proud to call him Daddy.