Dear You,
I’m not
even going to say your name because I’ve already given you enough time in my
life. I wrote you on May 24th,
but since that time I’ve learned to despise you even more. You took my little girl, but you also took a
whole lot more. I’m only writing you
this because it’s time I lift you up off my chest and let you go back to
whatever hell hole you crawled out of.
This isn’t about some New Year’s resolution, I think those are ridiculous
anyway. This is about letting you know
what you took and what you won’t ever have.
You
took a piece of my soul. My little girl
was my everything, and I watched it fade away as you left me helpless. You made me depressed and anxious from the time
I wake up to the time I try to fall asleep.
I had to start taking pills just to get some type of sleep. Congrats on successfully screwing up my awake
time and taking over my dreams.
Asshole. Because of you, I don’t
always pick up the phone when my friends call and I have to give the “I’m fine”
line to people when they ask me how I am.
You almost took coaching away from me.
My gym time was few and far between.
It was supposed to be an outlet for my hatred for you, but it only made
it worse sometimes because I was weaker than a 12 yr old girl. I closed out my parents and made my wife want
to hit me with a baseball bat. I didn’t
care if the sun came up and the rain no longer made me think of our dance and
smile. That’s what you did to me, and
that’s what you do to most people I’m sure.
You
couldn’t take away everything. You
actually gave me a lot. In your own
crappy way, you opened my eyes to a place and the people of St. Judes. I’ve now seen God and his work first hand,
and that is something most people never get.
You made me thankful for friends that don’t stop calling and don’t stop
showing me what true friends are. You
gave me a renewed sense of purpose in coaching and through a young man handing
me a book a few days ago made me realize that I am making a difference. You showed me how when people come together
as a community what can be done. I have
a quilt made from some special girls that represents all the love that our
family has felt. I have a wife that
through our worst times still loves me and puts up with my ups and downs. I have a tattoo that will make me forever
remember what it means to be a Dad and to never let her name be forgotten. You took a part of me that day in June; but
you created a world around me that won’t let me fail.
You
took a lot and slammed many doors in my face.
You took my sense of purpose in life.
But hey asshole, I’m still standing.
I’m still a Dad, I’m learning to live again, and Penelope’s name is
still just as strong as they day you got here.
I still have a million pictures and videos (mainly thanks to Ellen) so
all those good times will always be there.
St. Jude’s will never close its doors because that is a fight you will
never win. There are too many parents,
doctors, communities, donors, and most importantly kids that are stronger than
you will ever think of being. You might
win battles, but you won’t win the war.
I’m done with you and letting you ruin what’s left of Andy McCall. I just can’t take it anymore; so I won’t. F you Cancer, deuces.
Sincerely,
Penelope’s
Dad
Love you
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