I’m a Daddy’s Girl, but I come by my father worship honestly. My dad idolized his father. As a child, he watched my grandfather eat breakfast, have a cup of precious coffee and then smoke an unfiltered Camel cigarette.
One day my dad took a sip of the cold coffee. Unfortunately, the mostly-empty cup had been used as an ashtray for the cigarette ash.
Dad was horribly sick and ever since that day he has hated cigarettes and the smell of smoke like poison. Having my grandfather die in his early forties of “lung disease” didn’t help.
The only time my father was disappointed in me was when I smelled of smoke after a party. He did believe me when I told him I had not been the one who smoked. I’ve never touched a cigarette because I would hate to disappoint him.
So it’s ironic that today I will get in my car and drive eight hours east past the horse farms and into the mountains where I was raised, to sit with my step-mother while they cut the cancer out of my father’s left lung.
The night before his operation we’ll all stay at my brother’s house near the hospital. My brother and his wife have the cutest four little girls in the world (besides mine). We call them the G-Girls: Georgia, Gloria, Genevieve and Gemma. They are a sweet as they are beautiful.
We will all have dinner together and then sit on the couch and drink coffee until midnight. The G-Girls will fall asleep in our laps.
I’m bringing my Daddy’s all-time favorite dessert, banana pudding. I went to Trader Joe’s to get their “Ultimate Vanilla Wafer”, but I’m afraid I should have just gone with the classic Nilla Wafers. You want a tried-and-true basic and not something fancy when you need comfort food.
Still, it could make it with tofu and Dad would still eat a big dish and tell me how good it is, because that is what daddies do.
I will not think about my grandfather, who I never got to meet. I will not think about my boys’ own grandfather, who died of Stage 4 lung cancer two months ago. I will not think of my friend Sandy who died of breast cancer last month.
I will teach my step-mom to play Angry Birds, try to read ancient waiting room copies of Field and Stream, and text my husband. And we will wait. And I will pray for Stage 1.
Praying for you and your family as you travel this road.
Julia (jmmom) says
Nota, praying for your sweet daddy and for your family. Cancer is horrible, and I pray that it is Stage 1.
I will pray for you all.
Hugs, praying for safe travel and stage 1. I hate cancer alot.
Kim @ In Our Write Minds says
Your story is so touching, Nota. I’m so sorry your family is going through this, and I’m praying for the best possible report! Hugs to you…
Susan in the Boonies says
Praying you on your way, my friend. I’m a long stone’s throw away, and if I need to make a drive, I’m on it.
Praying for you, your father, and the rest of your family. I pray for wisdom for the doctors and a stage 1 diagnosis, as well as comfort and peace for you all through this stressful time.
Cancer sucks. Praying for y’all and for your precious daddy.
I’ll be praying.
You’ve had a rough year! I am with all those that love you in praying for your family.
That’s a tough one.
Praying for you and yours.
Praying, honey. You know I understand. I’m still reeling from my mother dying of it 4 mths ago never having smoked a cigerette. Love you!
Ugh. Irony sucks.
Margaret Hollingsworth says
Praying with you, dear Anne. Daddy’s are the best.
Stephanie (Just Me) says
Oh, honey. You’ve had enough dealings with cancer to last you a very long time. Praying with and for you. ((Anne))
Cancer really blows. It’s especially cruel when you weren’t the one who smoked the cigarette, but got the “extra smoke” from someone else. I’m sure your father’s surgeon is excellent and will remove all trace of cancer.
I hope Angry Birds make the time pass quickly and you will all be celebrating how remarkable the team of doctors are with cigarette-free coffee and bread pudding.
Hugs & prayers to you and your family.
Anne, praying here.
Oh, Anne. I will pray with you.
I love stories of doting daddies. my own daddy is as Non-doting as they come, so i live vicariously through you.
I have been neglecting my bloggy buddies. Just now reading this post..even though I already know that surgery went well.
Jennifer Dougan says
I am so sorry to hear about your daddy’s lung cancer. I am a daddy’s girl too. I grew up loving the pet-names he gave us kids like ” honey-pumpkin,” “feetheart,” etc.
Praying tonight for your dad’s lung…. May he sense Jesus’ presence deeply too.