Eight months ago I sat at my fathers hospital bedside holding his hand for hours on end, day after day. The man who I loved more than anything was laid there, unable to breathe for himself and attached to more machines than I knew possible.
I spent three days sat by his side, holding his hand, praying for him. I sang ridiculous songs to him to keep up a brave face while members of my family were in the room, but the times I spent with him on my own, I just sat… stared… cried and wished him no more pain.
It sounds heartless of me to say it, let alone think it - but I knew things would only get worse and I didn’t want him to have to suffer. I continued holding his hand under his bed sheet even when his suffering came to an end. The moment I let go of my fathers hand, my world shattered into a million pieces.
Eight months on and I wish, every day, that I could have just one more day with him. One more day even if it meant knowing it would be his last. There were things we were going to do, things I wanted to say… and I never got the chance.
There is a point to me telling this story. My dad said and did things that not alot of people agreed with, but at the end of the day he was only human and he was my dad - so I forgave him. Through thick and thin, through battles and heatache, I always loved him. I loved my dad more and more with every day that passed. We had our moments, like every family - but he was my rock.
My dad did things in the search of happiness. He made choices in the hope it would make him happy and I do believe he found that. The moral of this is that you should do what makes you happy… not what makes everybody else happy. Follow your own goals, shatter what you thought were your morals when infact they were every body elses, fight for what you want and search for what makes you happy.
You won’t always get what you want, but it’s better to try and fail, than to not try at all - and in the instance when you do fail, something better will no doubt come along for you in the future. As the saying goes ‘things happen for a reason’.
Obviously not all things, but I believe this for some situations.
I wouldn’t say I’m the happiest, but there are things that do make me happy. I’ll try my damn hardest to keep these things close-by, but there’s always the chance I’ll lose one, or two, or however many along the way. It’s not going to stop me though.
I’m more my fathers-daughter than anyone could ever imagine - and whether I do right or wrong - I’m making my own choices and running my own life. Whether people take a dislike to me for the decisions I make - I guess it doesn’t matter if I’m happy?
I lost my dad when I was 19 and I lost a huge chunk of myself the day he passed away. I lost some of my morals, my patience, my respect for people, a huge chunk of my happiness but I’m slowing building myself back up. It took me my dad dying for me to realise that you have to fight so hard to keep happy. I’ve never hurt quite as much as I do now - but knowing I was there to hold my dads… makes me somewhat happy.
I’ve been told I was selfish because I took my seat by his bedside when the nurses turned his life support off - but had I not done it, I would hate myself - and there’s nothing worse. My decision that day has only made me realise more that if I’m not happy, then there’s not much point to anything.
Yes, I’ve lost the most important man in my life and yes, it’s tough… but he would want me to be happy and that I will work for. Happiness is the center of everything.
Feeling like a big cheese now.
Base By: Jahrenesis
