My Superman

Thursday morning I received a call from the University Hospital ICU in Albuquerque. My dad had been taken in after a clot in his lung moved towards his heart causing a massive heart attack. His heart had arrested several times already and chest compressions had been done to revive him, and they didn’t expect him to live much longer.

I was home in Texas, 9 hours away.

Luckily I work with some of the most skillful people on the planet and flights were booked that would get me there in 6 hours… six hours… I prayed and prayed, as did many others, that I would make it in time.

The ICU kept calling with more and more bad news. The last call that came just minutes before I was to board the final plane, I was told they would try to keep him alive until my arrival, but because per his wishes I had declined further intervention, they did not believe I would make it. It was one of the hardest decisions anyone should ever have to make. I prayed the entire flight. And by God’s grace, I was given the blessing of having an hour with my daddy to say goodbye before he left this world.

My dad was a brilliant, kind-hearted, goofball of a human. A man who could build the most awesome, extreme, off-the-wall child’s toy out of random items just for the sheer challenge and joy it would bring. A man who I believed held the cure for cancer locked away in his brain somewhere. A man who had loved poorly in the past, but loved deeply in his present. A man who made many mistakes as a father, and had daily regretted each and every one of them. A man who lived a very simple life. An introverted computer genius with multiple autistic tendencies who lived out his days in a smoke filled room in the mountains. Most did not ever get to know him, as he liked to keep to himself. Unfortunately more for some than others. But I knew him.

My dad always reminded me of Superman. As a young child, I believed, very honestly that he was. Very honestly. He was tall, slender, had those black rim glasses and black hair. I would have sworn my life on it. It was his looks that made me see him as such. But as an adult, I feel it was really more because he had two sides; the one he showed the world, and the one he shared with me.

I guess maybe it was because I saw him in a different light than the rest of the world. I was simply his Sunshine and he was simply my daddy. Nothing less. I am so thankful we were able to form the bond we shared. Especially today. Even through all the time and distance, the rare encounters and brief phone calls, I can say I did not ever doubt his love for me. I knew it. And I will forever be grateful for every moment we shared, every day, for the rest of my life.

Rest in peace, daddy. I love you.

XOXO

Your Sunshine