Emerging Courageous Online Magazine - Stories

HIS GIFT TO ME
By Amy S. Toohill

 
 
My father was my Rock of Gibraltar, my strength.  He was such a strong man with so much wisdom. As the youngest of ten children, you'd think I'd just get lost in the crowd - but my Dad and I had a very special  relationship.  He used to call me "Schnook". I grew up with chronic pain  and had a real hard time as a kid fitting in. My Dad was always there for me lending me a shoulder to cry on and an endless supply of hugs. He gave the kind of hugs that made you feel so safe and protected. And he never gave up on me, even when I wanted to give up on myself. He gave me the strength that I didn't think I had.

In July of 1992, my Dad was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. He was given two weeks to two months to live.  On October 10th - two and a half  months later, my Dad's final journey here on earth ended. It's was the  hardest thing I've ever experi
enced in my life. I felt as if my world had  crumbled all around me. My Mentor, my Rock was gone. But as hard as the  experience was, in those two and a half months, I learned so much from  him. Lessons that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

From the moment that my Dad was diagnosed with cancer, he started to prepare himself and everyone he loved for his final journey. He faced his  death with such grace and dignity. He left no words unspoken. We shared  so much those two and a half months and made so many memories.
 
One particular memory will always stand out in my mind. It was a day in September, about a month before he died.  I went out to the hospital to spend my evening with him like I did every day. I could tell something was on his mind. He told me that he wanted me to read something that he wrote and let him know what I thought. He handed me a piece of paper and as I started to read, I realized that it was his eulogy. He had written his own eulogy for his funeral. Although I wanted to rip it up and pretend that he was going to be with me forever, I knew that this was very important to him and so I read it. It was so beautiful, yet I can't imagine how difficult it must have been for him to write.
 
I never considered myself a strong person, in fact just the opposite.  I always looked to my Dad for strength, and he was always right there ready to give it.  On that day in September, as I read my fathers eulogy through  my tears, an overwhelming sense of pride came over me.  I was so proud  that my Dad actually felt that I was strong enough to handle that. That he felt comfortable enough to share such a personal and emotional thing with me. I can't tell you how honored I was that he wanted to share that with me.
My Dad has been gone for nine and a half years now.  It's been hard, and not a day goes by that I don't think about him and wish he was here with  me. I miss him very much.  I miss his wisdom, I miss his hugs and most of all, I miss hearing him call me "Schnook". But I feel his presence and I take a lot of comfort in knowing that he is up in Heaven looking down on me.  It's ironic, he was always my strength. But that day in the hospital when he asked me to read his eulogy, I think it was his way of showing me that I  had my own source of strength inside of me the whole time.... and that I  was going to be ok. That was his gift to me.

Amy S. Toohill
[email protected]

My Dad told me before he died that he'd talk to the "Man Upstairs" about giving me a life filled with love and happiness. Six months later I met my husband, Bob.  We've been married now for seven years and reside in DeWitt, Illinois. In memory of my father, I have become very involved in a wonderful ministry called Chemo Angels, where we offer support for people with cancer.  "We begin by imagining that we are giving to them; we end by realizing that they have enriched us." Become a ChemoAngel today.... www.chemoangels.com
Copyright 2000 by Amy S. Toohill, All rights reserved
Hosted by www.Geocities.ws

1