Blog 1: My Dad

The first time I saw the sunrise, I didn’t really see the sunrise. I stayed up all night, anticipating an amazing sunrise. My dad proposed that we stay up all night so I could see my first sunrise. We watched survival shows for hours on end and discussed our summer plans. We walked to the back of our home when the sun started to rise. We sat in our empty dining room made up of windows that overlooked the Cape Fear River. You’d think this would be the perfect scenario to see your first sunrise. It was. However, as the sun rose, I begged my dad to let me go to bed. My eyelids felt like concrete, and he had been assuring me for two hours “it was going to happen any minute.” 

So, I didn't exactly see the sunrise the first time I stayed up to see the sunrise. Yet, I got so much more out of this night than seeing any sunrise is ever worth. I got to make one more memory with my dad.

It’s hard for me to remember much before I was twelve. This might be normal for every kid. I’m sure you have scattered memories growing up. But when I hit twelve, I think this was the first time I became fully conscious. I tried to focus on every detail of my day, hoping that nothing could slip the grasp of my mind. 

When my dad was first diagnosed with intravascular lymphoma, I didn’t really understand what that meant, at least not to its full capacity. I learned to become self-sufficient. I didn’t want to ask for extra help because no one could handle that. My mom was driving Dad back and forth from Duke Hospital for his chemotherapy and rehabilitation. My brother, Nathan, who had just turned seventeen, was now taking care of me and altering his plans after high school so he would not leave. Then, my dad, who was now out of work, paralyzed, and receiving treatment for a rare cancer. This left me knowing that I didn’t want to add to anyone’s stress and didn’t want to take any moment for granted. 

It’s important to note that this was anxiety-induced. If I had ever told anyone about my concerns or worries, they would have dropped everything to help me because that’s who they are. 

When my dad got sick in 2015, he started to lose the feeling in his legs until paralysis set in. Following the paralysis were painful jolts that he could only describe as the feeling of a taser being held to him. With no indication of when they would come and how long the pain would last. Through all of the hardship, my father’s courage never wavered. Even as I watched the hair fade from his head, it never occurred to me that death was a possibility. It wasn’t something we ever discussed or thought about. 

I know it seems a little crazy never to think that someone with cancer was going to die. But I didn’t. In my mind, there wasn’t a world where I existed without him. So in the fall of 2016, when the doctors told us that he was recovering as he started to regain feeling in his legs, I felt like I could finally breathe. 

Around the first week of December, my dad and I sat on our back porch like we had every night. I asked him to promise that we would not be in the hospital for Christmas like we were the year before when he was at Duke. He looked at me almost knowingly and said that he couldn’t make any promises but would do his best. 

Two weeks later, my mom, brother, and I sat around our Christmas tree with wrapped presents with his name still on the tag. Within eleven days, my life changed entirely. I now had to face a reality I never thought was possible. 

Hell, they told me he was getting better. My mom even told me he was only going to the hospital as a precaution. So when I said goodbye as they drove to the hospital, I just said bye, and I’m not even sure that I said I love you. 

For a long time after he died, I felt like I was on autopilot. Every day was the same: go to school, try to do my work, eat, and hope that I wouldn’t forget anything. I spent every day fearful that I was going to forget everything. I had only really just gotten to know my dad, and now he was gone. 

This was the first time my anxiety truly overtook me. I was consumed by trying not to forget. But I also was petrified to leave my mom and brother. Anytime I did leave, my last words had to be, “I love you.” It was like a compulsion. I’ll admit, I still can’t go without making sure these are the last words said, just in case. 

For years after my dad passed, I didn’t do anything out of my routine. I was stuck. I didn’t want anything to change again, and I needed to know I wouldn’t forget these new memories. I didn’t realize I was doing this until I looked around my senior year of high school, realizing that not much had changed in my life. I had hardly made any new friends unless they were introduced to me, and I never went out of my way to try new things. 

Now, it’s been over eight years since the last time I saw my dad. In the process of grieving my father, I’ve learned a lot. I worried about my life altering at any moment. I started to have more compulsive behaviors and thoughts. However, losing my dad allowed me to view my life in a new light.

Part of my habit of saying “I love you” last was because I was unsure if that was the last thing I said to my father. This has become one of my favorite things that I do. I now tell my friends and family loudly and frequently how loved they are. 

My dad, Kendall House, is the ultimate loss that I have faced. He taught me what it means to do what I love and how to be relentlessly myself without fear. Losing him when I was twelve taught me what it means to live with no regrets. Don’t let me fool you; my anxiety impacts me daily, and I am still scared that my life will change again at any moment. But now, I don’t let the fear affect me as it used to. I actively work to push myself to make new friends and try different things whenever possible. So that I can live my life to the fullest and get the most out of every day, I would rather push myself out of my comfort zone than look back and realize I remained stagnant. 

My dad is the best person that I know. I am who I am today not only because of how he loved me but because I had to learn how to cope with the absence of this love. When I think about my dad’s life, it reminds me to live fearlessly, even when I’m scared, and to never be content with being just comfortable. Thus, knowing who I am today has much to do with the people around me and what I’ve learned. Thank you, Dad. I am so lucky to miss you.