My Loving Daughter

Losing a wife to cancer is a painful experience that no one should have to endure. After a long and painful battle, the cancer finally won; my wife had passed away.

I may never forget the morning when I awoke to the soft tapping of raindrops cascading off from my bedroom window. I had slept without the alarm. It was the beginning of a weekend…no alarm was necessary; I wasn’t expecting to go into the office. Upon hearing the raindrops, still groggy with sleep…I reached over to the left side of my bed; it was empty. The sheets were cold…the pillow was fluffed. I quickly recoiled my hand…I felt a teardrop forming; my beautiful wife JoLyn was gone. In my bedroom and throughout my entire home, I would be able to remember my wife, our life spent together; photo’s and videos and my restless dreams would serve as a reminder of my undying love for her.

My wife was only fifty one years of age…as for myself, I had just turned 53. I considered myself to be young. My wife was more to me, than just being a wife…she was my friend, my fiance’, my lover…the mother of our only child. Our time together had been precious. Less than a month ago, she was buried in her final resting place; I was still very bitter. In my head, I screamed at the unfairness of it all…that such a beautiful person should be taken from me.

I turned to face the wall…my back was facing the empty space in my bed, where my wife should have been. Instead of getting up to face the day, I wished myself to sleep. Sleep provided me with a means of escape…a refuge from the pain. Not even a month had passed…already, I knew what it felt like, to walk into an empty house. Little by little, my home began to feel like a prison…already, I was fighting the ghost of my memories.

My daughter, or better yet, our daughter, had witnessed my wife’s terrible disease to the bitter end. Three months prior, our daughter Amanda had walked down the aisle; she was a newlywed. It had been a blessing; my wife had been able to see her daughter walk down the aisle. When Amanda and Keith left for their honeymoon, it wasn’t a known that Amanda’s mother would still be alive. But, my wife was a strong woman…fighting until the bitter end. When Amanda and Keith returned from their honeymoon, my daughter announced that she had become pregnant. My wife was over-filled with joy. It had always been her wish to be a grandmother.

Keith and Amanda lived approximately 6-7 miles away from our frontdoor. A day after their marriage, they had signed the paperwork for their new home. They were both ambitious, career oriented and now, they were expecting their first baby. Amanda had been a rock throughout this whole terrible ordeal. She had spent as much time as she could by her mother’s side. After my wife’s passing, Amanda had arranged the funeral service, throwing herself into the busy role of organiser; perhaps that was her coping mechanism. As for myself, with the loss of my wife…the experience was more devastating than I could have ever imagined. Even though I knew it was coming, when my wife passed away…a part of myself had died.

After my wife’s death, I was learning how to survive. I was still employed, in fact, my career was the only thing that made sense to me. The times when I would step into my home, those moments; I would become lost. I didn’t know how to cook a meal…it had been many, many years since I had last stepped into a grocery store. I didn’t know how to do my laundry, I had never loaded a dish washer; I was inept in knowing how to clean a home. My daughter began to teach me the basics in being able to cope as a single resident in my home. Whenever I tried to tell my daughter that I was doing well, that I would be fine…perhaps, she noticed the waver in my voice. She had become determined to make sure that I was taken care of.

I have to admit, I enjoyed my daughter’s visits. Amanda had a key to the house, at any given moment, she would show up. Not wanting to hear my daugher’s dis-pleaure; I became quite the home maker. My house cleaning abilities improved…on many occassions, I would prepare the evening meal; both Keith and Amanda seemed to enjoy everything that they ate. For as often, and as much time that Amanda was spending with me…Keith never uttered a word of complaint. I was taking baby steps and in time, I knew how to do my own laundry; I even mastered the dish washer.

And so, on that weekend morning…I remember closing my eyes, allowing my mind to drift back into the fog of sleep. The rain was beating against the window pane and somehow, I found that comforting. It was a remnder of sorts, that life went on; the world outside kept turning.

In my semi-asleep state of mind, I felt as if someone had entered my bedroom. I then became aware of some movement. Strange as it sounds, I felt as if I was in the midst of a dream. Then the movement felt more like a depression on the other side of the mattress. I felt the covers being manipulated…and then, I felt the warmth of another person beside me.

“JoLyn…honey?” I recall myself saying.

My senses…at that particular moment; I was confused and dazed. “It’s just me dad.” My daughter’s voice was gentle and very calming.

For the longest moment, I remained silent.

Amanda was the first to break the silence. “I woke up to the rain. The wind was howling. I didn’t want to wake Keith up. I tossed and turned for awhile and then decided to get up.”

With my back to my daughter, I could only agree with her. “I know. The rain woke me up too.”

In a gentle voice, Amanda asked. “Are you okay daddy?” My body tightened up; my daughter inched closer to me.

Again, silence ensued.

Once again, it was Amanda that broke the silence. “I mean, are you okay with me being here, in bed with you?”

I was lying on my side and almost immedaitely, the need to sleep seemed to become a second thought. I fumbled for my words and I heard mysel say. “Of course. It’s okay Amanda.”

Hearing my approval, my daughter cuddled up to me. Her warm breath was felt on the back of my neck…the warmth of her body was heating my back. For a moment, I thought it was my wife…JoLyn.

Amanda had placed her arm around my chest and squeezed a hug. “How long has it been since I was last in your bed?” She asked.

I felt my face form a smile. A sudden rush of memories seemed to filter through my brain. “When you were little, you were always in our bed.”

Amanda’s voice was very gentle and soothing.