Rushing into the ER to get the status of what is going on with my father, is never an easy drive. The way-too-frequent phone call of, “I’ve had to be admitted into the hospital,” always gets my emotions at its highest in a millisecond. My father, a man that as I’ve gotten older my fondness for him is less concealable, has had a rough medical run in his later years. Never had I seen this coming.

Growing up my memories of my father consist of simple ones; swimming together in the pool where we either raced, played basketball, or I was being taught how to dive, watching The Cutting Edge for the hundredth time, to smelling his lingering cologne hours in the home way after he left for his early work shift, and him arriving home hours later in his still finely-pressed, long-sleeve, button-down work shirt and tie, asking one of us girls to step on his back, as he laid on the cold tile floor. His work days were long and hectic, and sometimes you saw the weariness from the day still present on his face when he arrived, or you felt his energy high, as the intensity of the workday couldn’t simmer during his commute back home. My father, a man that I’ve always found simple, was a man that (just like my mother) has worked hard his whole life to provide for us children. My dad has always been a man that truly never took too many chances in life (and this is where I get my trait from), but rather his priorities were to stay in his lane and just make do. Although, the one time he took a gamble, which shocked me to the core, is when he left corporate America and found some solace in working for himself, but regretfully that was short-lived due to his family needing more.

Through the years we all enjoyed the weekly (commonly a Saturday) dessert after dinner, usually a pie with some ice cream on top, and we went on our merry way, unaffected, unconcerned. Yet, dealing with the repercussions, as my father is now a diabetic, hasn’t been an easy run. Diabetes is a common diagnosis nowadays, and unfortunately is a demon for my paternal family line. Combine diabetes with my father having to battle cancer, and maybe not in that order, has left me terrified way too many times that I will lose my dad sooner than later.

Every time that I have visited my father in the hospital bed, I shook my head, reminding him that he’s promised to be there for my daughter’s wedding day, which is easily now a decade away. I have had sympathy for my dad, as he’s laid in the hospital bed, realizing some of these visits have been out of his control. Whereas, other times I have sat there beside him disappointed, knowing this admittance could have been avoided.

As children, we know the reality of life is our parents will get older. It’s just the process of having to see our parent fight for his or her life that we’re never truly ready to face; I know I’m certainly not. The image of a tube in my father’s neck to feed him immediate antibiotics is still a vivid sight, despite the lapse of time. Being told dialysis is needed or else your dad will flatline on the surgery table are words that I still have yet to shake.

I will never forget reading that the first thing you miss when someone passes is the most bizarre act of that loved one. Having to fret that I will never get to hear what should be my dad’s patented phrase of, “Time to wake up!” barely after the sun rises, is something I have been deeply afraid of missing. Thankfully, my dad has pulled through all of the medical scenarios life has thrown in the last eight years, and they surely have been some lengthy eight years for him and for my family. But, truth be told, it’s his fight for life and my fear of losing him that has taught me our lifespan here on Earth is far too short and far too precious.

I refuse to take for granted the daily phone call my dad makes just to check up on me, even if made at not the most convenient time, or the breakfast dates just him and I share. My father is not perfect, oh, no, he is not, but he is loved, and he is so loved by me. As a father he has never faltered in being a phone call away. He has listened, guided and reassured me way too many times that my life will be okay. He’s even gone as far as stating, “You will always have me, if no other man in your life.”

As a daughter there is a different bond you develop with your father. You look to them, even subconsciously, as the model that you are to have for your future partner; even if not fully identical, close to it, or the admirable traits, at least. Needless to say, I will never be ready to lose my teddy bear, my dad, and in my heart I am holding him to his word (even though it sounds foolish to admit because it is an impossible promise for him to keep) that I will always have him. Nor will I ever be ready to not hear my daughter utter the reference “Papa” and have their comical, endless banter before me. So if you’re a parent reading this, this is my plea to you: Realize the pain your child or children endure when you lose sight of the bigger picture, because as a parent you are our foundation, and we realistically need you more today than yesterday; and if you’re a child that can relate to my story, know that I’m crying with you.

We are given one father and one mother, and like you I want to hold onto each of them for a lifetime; their attributes and flaws, yes, all of it. This is why my motto is: Savor the good memories, push through the tough ones, and create sweeter ones in the present. For we all know we can’t change the hands of time, but what we can do is create the time. Make it worthwhile for you and the ones you love, as we would never want to say, “I wish I did…” when, with permanency, one day we no longer can…