I lost my car in a parking garage today. In my defense, it was a very confusing parking garage, and I was trying to carry my heavy work bag, purse, VERY strong coffee, and vegan granola bar from the hipster coffee shop. After walking a few laps and taking trips up and down the steps, I did find my car.
I only had a slight moment of panic. I remained relatively calm, sipping on that super strong coffee. For a split second, I did think "okay but what if my car was gone? What would I do?"
I would probably call my dad.
At least, that's what I would have done 5 years ago.
I wouldn't now, he has enough to deal with. But is the first person I would think to call.
Because for the majority of my life, my dad was that person I called in crisis when it related to cars or money. Car accident? Call dad. Car battery dies on the freeway? Call dad. Over draft my bank account? Call dad.
And he always knew how to fix it, without judgment or overreacting.
I learned at a fairly young age that my dad was unique. Not only did he care for his three children, but he often served as a "second dad" to our friends. Everyone who knows my dad adores my dad. I have always seen his strength, his compassion and his gentle understanding. When he was diagnosed with cancer nearly four years ago to the date, it rocked our world. Suddenly, he needed us. The four years to follow have been incredibly rocky, full of ups and downs. I've written about them plenty of times before but I will not go into it here. I will just say that I have watched my dad suffer, in more ways than I ever thought possible, but time and time again, he has pulled through.
This guy is a true hero, even though he doesn't always see it. He has sailed through every single hurdle that this damn disease has put in front of him. He has never shown any hint of giving up. He is not letting this disease win. He has taken cancer for a ride. And even though he needs us and needs help now more than ever, he's still beating the odds.
Earlier this summer, we didn't think my dad would make it to the fall. On one of those days in the hospital, just shortly after he came out of a sort of comatose state, he looked me in the eye and said "I'm gonna make it". I asked him "make it to what?" And with all the confidence in the world, he said "September 23rd".
My wedding date.
The day before this happened, he didn't even know our names. But he pulled through, like he always does, and he's fought every single day since then so that he CAN and WILL make it to September 23rd- and beyond.
He is a rockstar, a warrior, a superhero, a fighter. He is my dad and I couldn't be more proud of him.
And let's not forget the woman that has stood behind him, walking right beside him through this entire journey. Mom, we know that you are the secret wings behind dad, pushing him, carrying him, encouraging him. None of us could do this without you. We love you.
Dad, your strength and determination is not only admirable, it's contagious. When you fight, we fight. We are your army, standing behind you in the front lines. You don't give up, so we keep marching on, picking you up when you get weak, but you are the one actually fighting this battle. And you're winning.