Resolutions are Overrated

This time of year is all about looking back at 2016 and resolutions for 2017.  I’ll go on record now that this whole “New Year, New Me” is complete crap.  Your phone calendar (let’s be honest, you don’t have a real one) changing from 12-31 to 1-1 isn’t some breath of fresh air.  It’s going to be a difference in Saturday to Sunday and that’s about it.  Resolutions to me are just words on a page.  Most, and I say most, people don’t have the mindset to pursue and conquer those things on their phone memo pad (let’s be honest, you didn’t write them in pen on paper). 

Every day that passes is another day without my Sweet little girl.  Time only brings me farther from the last day I held her, but another closer to when I can see her again.  Isn't that a bitch?  It is up to me what I do between those times.  To hell with goals of losing weight and saving money.  Life changes in an instant.  I’ll be more mindful of those things, but that’s not what I need to focus on.  Resolutions should be a mindset, not a single “thing” I believe.  It will hit the fan at some point and I’ll eat that whole pizza and the money will be gone, but it doesn’t mean I’ve lost or it’s time to give up.  Cry in the bathroom, cuss for a few minutes, and keep on truckin.  That’s all I know how to do. It doesn't fix the situation, but it does help to cuss after crying.

2016 was the worst year of my life to date.  Losing Penelope will forever have changed me.  Mostly for the worse, I won’t lie.  I’m not going to look back much because I’ve visited that too many times in the past 24 hours internally, and about 25 times through this blog.  That’s what brings me to 2017.  A calendar year that I won’t have P, but I will have a different mindset, and I hope that many of my friends do too.  I can only think of 3 things that I think would serve as some type of hopes for a new year.

1)      Make a Difference: I don’t know exactly what I will make a difference in, because if I set my sights on one thing, I’ll miss 10 more.  Maybe it will be helping fight for Access to Medical Marijuana.  Maybe it will be one of my students or football players.  Maybe it will be in this book I’m trying to write.  Who knows and at this point I don’t really care.  I just want to Make a Difference and make Coach Brimer proud.  I don’t know what those people in my life are planning to do, but it’d be nice for them to Make a difference too, and maybe stop complaining so much on Facebook while they are at it.

2)      Simplify my life:  Too much of my time is scrolling through B.S. on Social Media, thinking about that same B.S. in my life, and flipping through useless channels watching something like Teen Mom with Ellen.  (Teen Mom is a trainwreck, don’t turn it on, you can’t turn it off.)  There are too many books to read, too much to see outside, and too little of time to do it all in.  I hope the people in my life will do the same, less B.S. on Facebook will allow me more time to do these things.  Hit the power button and enjoy something without a cord.

3)      Learn to Smile Again:  Depression hits you like a train and takes the fun out of pretty much everything.  The other night playing Cards Against Humanity with some of my friends, was the 1^st time I’ve genuinely laughed and smiled until I couldn’t stand it.  I need to learn again how to do that.  I’m sure I’ve missed things the past couple months that could have been a good time, but I just didn’t have it in me.  I hope that those around me do the same.  Life sucks, and it will continue to suck if you don’t do something about it.  Brigham Lyons said it best, “If you don’t like your situation, do something about it, quit bitching.”

My Last Letter to Cancer

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 24^th, 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

The Missing Present

Her stocking hangs there in its spot next to her Mama’s.  Her pictures are on the mantle, the table, behind me, on my cell phone, and on the computer.  Her boppy is right under this computer as I type.  Her Poppy cat is cuddled on her spot right above Tink on the couch.  Her pink tree sits in the front room with all her ornaments just as they were last year.  I moved her urn to the front of her special place so that the lights shine off the side if you look at it just right.  The only thing missing is her. The piece of my heart that is hers is no longer there, but broken into tiny pieces all over my soul.

Yes I’m depressed and have anxiety at some point every single day.  Yes I cry when I see all these cute things I could be buying her.  Yes I get pissed when I walk by a storefront that has something pretty that my baby would have looked cute in.  I struggle constantly finding something to look forward to.  I truthfully get upset when I have to look at others Christmas cards and we don’t have one.  I get pissed when I think of all these people that will be opening presents and being ungrateful because it is the wrong size or color.  I scroll as fast as I can on social media so I don’t have to look at the fun things your are doing with your kids.  Minus that creepy as hell Elf on the Shelf, you can keep that stupid thing to yourself.  I cry watching videos and looking at pictures because that is all I have left.  I give fake smiles to people as I walk by, because that’s the best I’ve got.

All those things are what a Dad goes through who lost his little girl.  There’s a million other emotions and triggers that I have to navigate every day.  Those feelings have also made me see the flip side of it.  I don’t get pissed at all those Minnie Mouses or fairies that fill my house.  I stopped being mad at that “cute stuff” Ellen bought when scroll through pics and see her wearing it.  I smile at those Christmas cards the 2^nd time I look at it because those families were there for us when we needed it and are pretty much our family too.  I don’t look forward to much, but I know that those 8 yr olds are looking forward to seeing me.  I am grateful for neighbors that bring by a card, kids that hand me a gift card, and a young man that gave me a gift with his own words written in the inside cover.  I’m more grateful for those little gestures than ever before.  I’m happy for social media because it gives me an escape to share my feelings, read the ridiculous posts on My Greeneville, and look at Daquan’s Instagram.  Those same videos that make me cry also give me the strength to make it through the rest of the day. 

I’m not getting into the Reason for the Season vs. Christmas trees and presents and how it should make me feel.  I’m just trying to make it through a meal without having to go upstairs and be alone.  My little angel fairy is celebrating her 1^st Christmas without being sick or hurting.  She gets to stare at all the Christmas lights, not just ours.  She can be on a mountain in Montana or on the beach in Florida, but I know she’ll be here with us on the couch.  I truly want Christmas to come and go this year, I don’t know any other way.  I hope your Christmas is all you want it to be, live in the moment, and listen in it too.  There will be joy and we will all smile at some point, it might just not come as easy as it has in the past.

Nothing more was needed...

I’m writing this one more for me, but maybe you’ll get something out of it.  I have a special kind of relationship with my grandmother.  Mainly because she’s cool as anybody I know, or maybe it’s because I’m her favorite.

Tonight will forever go down as a moment I’ll never forget.  Some know my grandmother Brit, some have heard the legends, some have heard me tell stories about her, and I promise whatever you have heard are all true.  In her 97 years, she has gained a lot of knowledge that I’ve tried to soak in over the years.  No matter what you do though, she will always have a comment on it or tell you that you could have done it just a little different.  If I’m 97, you best believe I’m going to tell you that you are an idiot and should have done it completely different.

Sitting in her chair, looking at me from across the table, she took a deep breath and said, “I don’t have to worry now, I think you’ve got it down pat.”  It didn’t need more sage, it didn’t need another cup of chicken stock and butter.  It didn’t need more celery or onions.  It was right.  The dressing was right and it couldn’t have been better in her eyes.  Dressing seems like a trivial thing, but it is something that I have worked at doing well in her eyes.  I finally did something of hers completely right; nothing more was needed.

The only thing I needed more of tonight was time with her.  I’ve spent countless hours in that house through the years and I realized tonight I hadn’t always been listening.  I learned with Penelope that you must live in the moment.  I learned tonight that you must listen in the moment as well.  I listened to how she’s been solving the Cryptquip but can’t do Soduko.  I listened to her criticize Vanna White’s hairdo and how she’d spend the $50 million Powerball if she won.  We laughed, we talked about things going on, and just had some good times together.  I hung on every word tonight for some reason.  I couldn’t think of anything better.

I hope that whatever you get to listen to this holiday weekend that you soak in and are 100% in the moment.  Those stories you’ve heard 100 times will one day be gone.  The people sitting there won’t always be there.  You’ve heard it 1,000 times I know, but did you really listen?  

To my boys

           This time of year, when the pads are put up and the stadium bare, a coach really starts to examine the past year and if he did all he could.  I’m not at the high school, so I feel even more detached than if I was walking the halls with them.  The same boys I spent more time with than my wife haven’t seen me in a couple weeks.  I wish I could call or text every one of them every day, but other than they don’t have time for that, I hope that what I’ve taught them doesn’t require me to be there with them for it to come about.  I’ll pull a page out of Coach Brimer’s book and just put it here.  Maybe they’ll read it…maybe they won’t. 

To my boys:

            I promised you the first time you walked into that field house that I would never give up on you if you don’t give up on me.  When my daughter passed away this summer, I wanted to give up.  I wasn’t going to come back and coach this year.  I was going to go back on my promise and leave you there on that field without me.  You would have been just fine and probably never missed a beat.  Something happened though that stuck with me and I couldn’t shake.  #16 looked me in the eye after P’s service and asked me in his own way, “When you think you’ll come back around?” From that moment on, along with Ellen telling me to go, I knew I had to be there. 

            You wore my daughter’s initial on your helmet thanks to Coach Ballard.  That meant more to me than I ever could truly tell you.  My Thunder gang got to see me cry before the 1^st game because of it.  I no longer get to see my little girl, but I got a reminder every day when I looked in your eyes that she was there.  She would have been proud of you.

            You didn’t win every game and yes that sucks.  The thing is, in 10 years is that single game you lost going to matter more than all that we tried to instill in you?  If it does, then we as coaches didn’t get through to you.  Football isn’t life, it is part of life.  What you learned in all those summer workouts, team meetings, HUDL studies, and halftime adjustments will transcend touchdowns and scoreboards.  You are ahead in life because of the values you learned across Palmer Street.  At some point in life, you will come across a situation that will take you to your knees, but I promise that you will stand back up.  You will be able to handle what comes at you.  It is in you.  It might be buried deep, but so was that last 100 at 5pm in 103 degree heat.  Don’t ever give up; I almost did and I almost regretted a part of my life.

            I’ll always pick up the phone.  I’ll always be there to talk.  I’m not a Hall of Fame coach and I probably won’t ever have my name on some plaque for some crazy record.  I’m just Coach McCall who was never a hypocrite and told you how it was whether you liked it or not.  I kept it 100 with you all the time.  You hated me, you hugged me, and you might even have learned something from me along the way.  I’ll always ask you how you are and if you have all A’s in college because I care.  Always tell your Mom you love her, don’t waste an opportunity in front of you, and have fun.  You will make bad decisions along the way, just don’t let them define you.  Don’t let anyone define you.  You do it on your terms, not someone else’s. 

Deep in the Timeline

June 9^th wasn't that long ago.  It seems like forever because every day I wake up in the same hell as the day before.  I made sure that during those last times I lived in the moment.  I soaked up every single second that I could because I knew those seconds wouldn't last forever.  I was wrong.  I relive those seconds every single day at some point.  I can tell you every single thing that happened from the time I got the call from Ellen to the second I felt all the breath leave her body onto my neck for the last time.  The problem with all that is I’m not living in the moment now.  I’m not even close to that and it took 3 minutes of scrolling through Darren Reese’s pictures to make me realize that.

            If you don’t know Darren Reese, then you are missing out.  The stories he tells through his pictures are pretty much unbelievable and his appreciation for a good beer is on the same level as mine.  Long story short, I saw a picture I forgot about this morning and went scrolling through his timeline to find the original.  Let’s just say that took a while.  In the process I noticed pictures of things I was a part of that I had never seen before.  I forgot about football games, accomplishments, current events, and so much more.  Timelines since June are almost nonexistent because I play the same one in my head over and over.  I've missed out on so much more and cheated myself because I’m depressed and anxious about making it through the next hour and not living in that hour.

            It isn’t going to change any time soon, but damn, it about brought me to tears.  I had no idea what some of those pictures were, and I was probably no more than 50 feet away from them in the background somewhere.  Depression makes you live in the background.  It takes away what is in front of you and although you can mask it with a fake smile and “I’m fine”, it doesn't change the fact that I won’t remember this moment because I’m replaying the time Penelope held my hand all the way from Florida a few days before she passed away. 

            Live in the moment.  Don’t be in the background.  It’s a dark place that doesn't look the same for everyone.  My background is in the middle of 1,000 people and a touchdown that I can’t even remember.  They say you live and you learn.  I say you need to learn while you live or it isn't living at all.

How are you?

“How are you?” is probably one of the worst questions there is.  For one I’m going to answer with “I’m fine” and smile, which are both a lie.  The second thing is you really don’t want to hear the real answer.  Before I begin with the real answer though, I truthfully appreciate the people that ask “How are you?” and genuinely care.  It really does help for that split second to lift my spirits, but sorry I must lie to your face.  

So here’s the truth:

I’m not fine, I’m the exact opposite of fine.  I start my day usually crying for a few minutes because I have to walk by pictures and an urn instead of a snoring and drooling little girl.  I don’t want to get out of bed to pee much less go through another day.  The last thing I want to do is interact with people and have conversations.  I don’t want to watch that kid suffer in class when I know their parents could give a crap about what they do.  I don’t even like working out any more, but I have to because with depression comes eating and I’d weigh 400 pounds if I didn’t.  I don’t like picking up the phone when my friends call and usually stare at the screen until it goes to voicemail.  I get mad at stuff around the house that doesn’t even matter.  I make my wife, the one person I can’t go without, cry and not like me with stupid decisions and comments.  I spent 2 hours of Thanksgiving laying in bed staring at Penelope’s Bunny because I couldn’t handle being around people and faking it anymore.  I smile, laugh, and joke around while inside I’m trying not to throw up and holding back tears because something I’m doing is probably reminding me of P and I’m hoping that I can leave to go sit on the couch as soon as possible and hold her boppy.  I look like I’m holding it together, but there’s the truth, I'm not.

I don’t want extra calls or texts, I probably won’t pick it up any way.  I am depressed but I have to learn how to deal with it my way.  I don’t want to leave my house, but I do.  I have an obligation to my kids to give them a great day and I will do that, no matter what’s wrong with me.  So for those of you that I do encounter during the day, I appreciate you and yeah, “I’m fine.”

How to Grieve

     “Oh grieving is a process, you’ll have highs and lows.” “Grief shows its head in many ways, you will find a way to deal with it.” “Stay positive.”

     These are the things you hear as you begin to grieve.  Here is the truth: “It isn’t a process, it is now life as you know it.  You have mediums and pits of hell, the only high is medicinal at the beginning.”  “You don’t deal, you see things in different ways.” “These many heads are really just the 5 million things going through your head at once.”  “Screw positive, I’m just trying to stay sane.”

     I’ve grieved in the bottom of Gin bottles.  I’ve grieved opening up the top of a pill bottle.  I grieve reading passages of the Bible while minutes later screaming “Why????” at the top of my lungs from her bedroom.  I grieve by loving my wife more than anything, but also by getting mad at her about simple things.  I’ve yelled until I am hoarse, cried until I can’t breathe, and thought so much my head hurts to the point of crying again.  I’ve watched the phone go to voicemail of my best friends days upon days.  I’ve made more excuses on why I can’t go somewhere than I ever have before.  I’ve given to more charities and donated more change at 4 way stops than before too.  I’ve said I am Ok and doing fine to the point I start to halfway believe it. 

     I could say a thousand more things about the past month and a half but it all comes down to living day to day.  One day is not like the other.  One minute is not like the other.  The only process I understand about grieving is this:

1)      Nobody should ever tell you how to grieve.  You do you and be okay with that.

2)      You will become bitter with the people around you without even knowing.

3)      Drinking an entire bottle of gin will probably make you pee the bed.

4)      You need to take time to cry purposefully.  Random things will make you cry, but you need to reminisce about the times that made you smile, even though you cry and want for them now.

5)      Don’t give up on God.  Your outlook will change. Your beliefs will be tested.  You have to figure it out yourself, nobody can do that for you.

The Power of Nice

    With all this awful stuff happening in our country, it helps to focus on the complete opposite.  I will stand by my thoughts of #yourlifematters because that’s how I live my life and nobody can argue that.  Instead of thinking black and white, I think about my college teammates and how we all bled Blue and Gold, no matter what we looked like on the outside.  Instead of thinking about the idiots we have as candidates, I think about Jeremy Faison and what he did for the children of TN and just hope that there are more like him out there.  I see people killing cops and I think of how proud I am of my friends Logan and Sweck and what they do on a daily basis.  I see Pokémon Go players and I still can’t figure that crap out so I have nothing for that.  I’ve tried lately to focus on the power of nice instead this shitstorm we live in.

    The only way I know how is to explain the power of nice is to give it a name, well the initial J.  J would shoot me if I said his name because he’s not here to get praise for being a good person.  Being nice is underrated these days.  It is usually seen as a sign of weakness in men, and being fake by women.  That’s how screwed up we all are.  We just can’t be nice, period.  There is this one person in my life, J, who by a few examples made my life better because who he is.  J I don’t think really cared about what people saw, instead he just wanted to be there and be a friend.  J has sat on the couch and held P in a couple of the toughest times that there were.  J called multiple times to just talk to me about 500 other things because he knew that’s what was needed.  J showed up to cry with me on the same couch that he once held Penelope.  J took care of my family in ways that they don’t know and I’m pretty sure I don’t know to the full extent.

    J is just an example to me of what we should all try to do daily.  If you think somebody needs something, you take a minute out of your dang life and reach out to them.  If you have the means to do something for somebody at any level, you do it.  You don’t do it for some type of reward or recognition.  Those people suck and we all know who they are and yes I’ve come across them in this life that we have been dealt.  You laugh with people, you cry with them, and you genuinely have feelings for another human being and what they are going through. What I’m saying though is look at your friends and are you taking care of each other?  This world is going down the drain and divisions are happening every day.  The power of being nice won’t reverse all this, I’m not an idiot.  You don’t have to seek out a certain cause or child, but just start with your friends.  Your friends need you in more ways than you think.  Dr. Jason Horne, one of the smartest and nicest human beings on this planet, (who also has a pretty incredible twin brother) said to me one time, “I’m happy that you are happy and that’s all I need.”  Not a bad way to think ya know.

4th and 1

   Life has to go on as much as I don’t want it to sometimes.  In a way, life sort of resumed this week.  By life, I mean football and reading school emails.  To say my mind is a combination of every natural disaster put together would be an understatement, but there are things that have to be done.  School and football pay the bills, and bills have to be paid.  The whistle still needs to be blown, plays still need to be called, and kids still need somebody to talk to.  I look at it all though way differently now, especially after the first week back.

  I needed football more than football needed me.

   I work my tail off and would like to think that I’m a pretty decent coach.  I’m replaceable though, and if I never came back, the game of football would never miss a beat.  The Greene Devils would be just fine. 

   I only say that because going back to the fieldhouse was a difficult decision for me.  More difficult than anyone knows or that I’ll go into detail about.  I can’t look at the bleachers without seeing my little girl in her Mom’s arms in the 3^rd row 2^nd seat.  I can’t look in the corner of the endzone without picturing meeting them there after a game and getting to hold her.  It’s hard to stand on the sidelines without staring into the sky and wondering if she’s watching everything that’s going on.  My sunglasses hide tears that I can play off as sweat, because it is hotter than 7 hells on that turf sometimes.

   These kids don’t know that though.  They probably know I’m struggling a little bit.  They probably get that I’m not the same as I was before.  They haven’t changed a bit.  I still have to look at them flex on me because deep down they know I’m proud of their work even when I call them small.  The big boys think twice about that 2^nd sandwich because they know I’ve been there too.  They still sit on my desk all nasty even though they know it pisses me off and just smile when I walk in the room and catch them.  I still say “WTF” to myself about 50 times a day wondering what goes through their minds. 

   As I laid down to sleep last night though, I realized I needed that.  I realized in some way, shape, or form, they still needed me just a little.  One kid said, “It’s nice to have you back Coach, I missed you out here.”  With that one sentence, I was ok again, I made the right decision.

   You can change sweaty, smelly high school boys and a game into whatever you want to when something like this happens.  People lose children, parents, and friends every single day.  Death is something that we will never master dealing with.  It takes words from your mouth and turns your days into disasters.  Losing someone you love more than life itself takes the joy and happiness out of your life in an instant.  Their life is over, but yours must go on.  You have to find joy again in something.  I was lucky enough for it to find me on the 20 yard line.  I needed football more than football would ever need me.

The 1st Father's Day without P

Father’s Day, another chance to say F you Cancer.  You probably thought about it pretty hard before opening this one.  You probably thought to yourself, “Nope, I know his day sucked, not going to read this one, keep scrolling.”

     I didn’t wake up to breakfast in bed.  I didn’t wake up to handmade gifts on the counter.  I didn’t spend the day near the grille cooking for a big group.  I didn’t get to take selfies with my daughter doing something random to fill the afternoon.  I didn’t get to do any of those, nor will I ever get to with Penelope.  But that’s just life.  It will be like this every holiday at some point or another for the rest of my life.  Yeah it sucks, but that’s all I can let it do is just suck.  I can’t dwell on it or I’ll never enjoy anything else again.  I will simply leave the negativity in one paragraph and a few sad moments I had today.

     I did eat Pals Cheddar Rounds with my wife at 10am.  I did wake up to a letter Ellen wrote me from P.  I did take a Jeep ride to the mountains and sit in the peace of Horse Creek.  I did go hang out with Pop and talk about random things like usual.  I did go eat with my crazy ass family and laugh at their stories.  I did sit in the backyard with Tink and a beer and watch the fireflies for an hour.  Those moments didn’t suck.  I thought of Penelope in all those situations just as I did in the other paragraph.  The positivity is what has to win, and that’s what I choose.

     Sitting in the creek all those emotions and thoughts rushed through my head faster than the water was flowing.  Then they just stopped.  I pictured P playing in the water and just smiled.  I woke up today to a Coach B text and that let me know I had the strength to get through this day just from his always perfect words.  Many of my friends sent texts saying thanks for showing me how to be a strong Dad and great father.  I wasn’t forgotten on Father’s Day, not that I thought I would be, but there’s that struggle of “do I text him or not?” and that’s ok, it’s a weird situation and I get it.

     I’ll just end with this.  What I did for Penelope in those 23 months could be seen as strong and a great father example and I appreciate that with all my heart.  I just saw it as doing what a father is supposed to do every day for his family.  You are strong and make decisions.  You show them love every second you can.  You let them know how much they mean not just in some Instagram photo, but all those times that aren’t “picture worthy”.  You watch Dads like Logan and Matt deal with situations and be proud of them for all they do.  You learn from Mike McCall, Chuck Phifer, Todd Newberry, and countless other men in your life and use that stuff to the best of your ability.  You will make wrong decisions, you will mean well, and you will screw up.  You will get mad, you will say things you will regret, and you will need time to yourself.  That’s all I did.  I did the best I could and let the world know how proud I was to be Sweet P’s daddy.  

Breaking Beans

Breaking beans is one of those things you just grow up doing.  I feel sorry for those that didn’t get to do it growing up, or don’t do it when they are grown up.  I would probably say half the people reading this are trying to figure out if they’ve ever done it or not, and those who haven’t are probably going to google it later.  Breaking beans isn’t what it is all about.  It’s the time you spend doing it that matters; because for that time, nothing else does.

     It’s a time that I want to cry because I miss my little girl so much but I don’t for some odd reason.  I get to saying how much I miss her, but then I notice how perfect the little string that just pulled off the back of the bean is.  I start to get the feeling in my gut about worrying again, and then I see how I just broke that oddly shaped green bean into a shape that looks like a football.  About the time I finish that handful, the feeling of sadness comes back over me, but it quickly stops when that 97 yr old hand reaches in the Food City bag and throws some more in my lap. 

     It’s a time that you hear about how it is going to get easier from a woman that has buried her husband and almost all of her friends.  It’s a time she tells you stories about the “Damn Cows” he left her and how many Damn ears of corn she bought from this Damn lady that her cow kept jumping the fence to get to her garden.  It’s a time where she says she’s proud of you for getting up there and talking at your daughter’s funeral, and doing it with what she calls a certain eloquence.  It’s a time that when all the beans are broke the stories stop, the feelings are put into a pot, and are cooked on low with some ham seasoning.

     I never got to show P how to break beans, but I imagined her there stealing a bean and running off into the house to try and see what it tasted like. (Maybe that was a younger me, maybe I was under the bed, and maybe I left it there because it tasted like dirt.)  She wasn’t there to break the ends and snap it into big pieces, but she was there in the perfect curls of the string and the funny shapes.  Penelope Claire was there in the stories, whether about her or in some way that made it seem it was about her.  Breaking beans could have been anything today and will be something else tomorrow; but that’s how you get through tough times, one handful at a time.

Sweet P's Service

A couple people asked for me to post what I said at P's Celebration.

They don’t have a chapter for this in a handbook anywhere so I’ll do the best I can.  First I just wanted to say thank you all for everything.  Growing up you always did things like this, but you never pictured it from this side.  All I can say is you don’t want to be on this side, but if you have to be, words can’t describe the feeling of support we have.  Thank you really doesn’t cover it all, but really that’s all I have right now. 

My little girl isn’t hurting anymore and doesn’t have to fight one more day.  I want to be selfish and have her in my arms, but she’s in God’s arms right now and I have to be ok with that.  I know that she is up there in Heaven playing with all those other little kids that don’t have to fight anymore.  I know she’s looking down on her best friend Josie and taking care of her.  I look to see if she is in her boppy or bean bag and I think to myself, Andy you are crazy, she hasn’t stopped playing since the minute she found out she could.  I know she is running and picking flowers because I’ve dreamed it and pictured it in my head a million times, so I know it has to be real.    I struggled with Faith and believing through all this, and I still do about every other 5 minutes, but when a doctor tells you “I don’t know” or “I can’t explain it” then that is where my faith and belief was.  My faith is in purple hair, purple ribbons, and purple shirts.  My faith is in high school kids and seeing that there is still good in this world.  My faith is in friends driving hours from the coast, from different states, and those just across the mountain that have been there every step of the way.

  She was so unique that there wasn’t a definition for her.  We just said that’s P and knew she was going to keep going, so that’s what we have to do.  Ellen and I are the lucky ones.  Penelope inspired all these people that never even met her, but we were the ones that got to say “Good Morning Time Baby” and “I love you” at night.  No matter how bad it got, she always just looked up at us and let us know it was going to be ok.  She spoke to us Thursday morning because she knew we needed that.  She made sure we knew she loved us in her own little way. It was perfect.

I told P the afternoon she got her wings to never stop playing, and that I missed her, but I know she’ll always be with me.  Coach B from Mars Hill said something that was perfect to me.  Sweet P is running, laughing, and playing non-stop.  She finally gets to tell people how much she loved her Mom and Dad and how much she loved her unicorns and Minnie Minnie’s.  Her memory of this place will not be about politics, war, or crime but it will be of love and of how much we loved her and how much she loved us.  That’s pretty dang good if you ask me.

The thing about all of this is Penelope is going to be ok.  She’s better than ok right now.  We are the ones hurting and in pain.  I won’t ever be the same after all this, a piece of me went with her Thursday morning, I felt it.  The pieces that are still here though are a whole lot better off because of her.  We are all better people because of P.  I just see it as our job not to let that ever be forgotten and use that the best we can, just like her.  I love you little bit, thanks for letting us be your Mommy and Daddy.

Two Headed Monster

     Grief and anxiety are a two headed asshole.  Just when you thought you beat one, the other one smacks the crap out of you from behind and starts the process all over.  Today was a rough day, I won’t lie, it was like getting hit repeatedly with a bag of hammers.  Slightly worse than hanging out with a bored 6 yr old.  I think today I perfected my fake smile; or maybe I just had this awkward look on my face in public.  Let’s take a ride in the day of a “Strong Dad” who is at the end of his rope and how you aren’t going to fix it.  Think about it like the youtube video of the kid who is on that stupid slingshot ride in Pigeon Forge and his seatbelt isn’t all the way fastened.

     Start the day with a good cry that you can’t hold back.  You try to at least make it through putting your contacts in but it falls in the sink and you know your day is going to be shit and trust me it doesn’t get better.  Start crying again once you walk in the lonely living room that used to start your day with a kiss and an I love you.  Now it is silent and a depressed cat just lays there looking at you.  **At this moment you probably think, I wish I could just hug him.  No, I have morning dragon breath, I’ve already been crying, and I haven’t had coffee.  Not a good time.**

     The next 2 hours are a blur.  No TV, I couldn’t tell you what I was looking at on Facebook or Twitter, so I resort to watching videos of P which just make the situation of the day 100 times worse.  Cry #4 at this point.  **Don’t think some uplifting Facebook status is going to help.  99% of those quote things are stupid and not even correct, I’m a nerd, I’ve checked it before.**

     Now you would think that your buddy coming over to hang out is a good thing, and for the most part is.  In times like this people don’t need to be alone, just FYI.  Then again that’s all I wanted.  Enter head 2 of the monster: anxiety.  I love my buddy to death, about as much as a grown man can love another grown man, and it had nothing to do with him, you could have inserted anyone here.  My mind starts racing, I can’t think straight, and I’m worried he’s going to ask how am I.  Well then he actually walks in.  Friends are good to have, and in my situation I have some dang good ones, but I still can barely sit still and talk to them, it just isn’t in me.  **Insert you wanting to come over and hang out to make me feel better.  Truthfully, it is a good thing.  For me, today it would have put me over the edge and I probably would have hid upstairs hoping you would leave.**

     Going in public today was even worse.  I was glad to see two people who gave Penelope a prayer quilt and I could thank them.  That felt good.  Then grief comes back and I never got to bring P there.  Then anxiety smacks me in the back of the head when I realize I’m so anxious I don’t want to sit there anymore.  I have my wife and one of my best friends there and I want to run out when they aren’t looking, for real. 

     Spent the rest of the afternoon by myself.  Glad to be alone, but interchange that monster every 30 minutes and staring at P’s urn just talking to her.  When I start answering myself then I’ll worry.  **thinking to yourself, I probably should have texted him today, etc.  I would hit you with the I’m fine, thanks for asking and go back to my little day of horror.**

     The part that sucks is today I couldn’t be there for Ellen.  This grief process will not break us, but just like today it will bend us to a point we yell and sit in different rooms.  Not because we love each other less, but everybody grieves differently.  You have to accept that and just ride it out.  Tomorrow might be different, who knows.  I could throw some cliché in there about take it day by day and all that, but that’s not what I’m dealing with.  I’m dealing with a loss that I’ll have forever.  This loss is something that took part of my soul with it and I have to figure out myself how to get it back.  A grieving Dad doesn’t want pills to make him sleep, he doesn’t want to talk to somebody on a couch about how much life sucks.  He doesn’t want to go for rides or even walk outside really.  I don’t want to look at my wife crying and have nothing.  I don’t want to snap because the water hose keeps kinking up and blow my lid outside yelling at a piece of rubber.  I don’t want to numb all these emotions because if I don’t deal with it I won’t make it. 

     Life would be better if I had something to make me sleep.  I probably need a 3^rd party to listen to this buzz saw in my head and help out.  I need my friends to keep showing up just to talk and make me workout.  I need random text messages and stupid animal videos.  I need to get in the Jeep and just drive with my wife.  I probably should get a new water hose reel.  There’s a lot of stuff grief and anxiety want to take away from you.  They won’t take my Sweet P’s memory.  They won’t take all the fight and strength she gave me.  They’ll test it, but hey, day by day right?

Parenting

    In the past few days parenting has come up a lot.  Many people have said that I was a good father and Penelope was lucky to have a strong Dad like me.  I'm at that point in my life where that accomplishment is about all I need in life.  I don't know if that’s the only words people have, if they are blowing smoke up my butt, or if they really mean it.  I'll ask P the day I get to be with her again what she thinks, and that’s when it will mean the most.  For those of you that have said that to me though, I’ll tell you nothing means more than to hear I was a good Dad to my little bit.

     I was a parent for almost 23 months and I’ll be the first to say I am no expert.  I just did what I had to do and what I thought was best for my girls at that moment.  75% of the time I probably didn't know what I was doing or was repeating “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit” in my head while I acted like everything was ok on the outside.  I do think though I got the opportunity to not be more of a Dad than others, but to be more aware about being a Dad than others have the chance to.  I obviously sit and think about Sweet P all the time and what made our time so special.  If I ever had any advice to future Dads, or those going through hell like we did, it would be these couple things.

-Enjoy the moment you are in.  Dads are always thinking about 100 things at a time, I know, I sure did.  But are we really enjoying our kids at that moment?  Sure you are at a baseball game with them, a restaurant, or even just sitting on the couch, but are you really there?  Facebook and Twitter can wait, I promise.  I don’t get to do those things anymore right now, but what I can do is remember all those times and places I was with P and tell you every single detail because I was in the moment; and truthfully, it was awesome.

-Quit trying to make your kids “perfect”.  I was really bad at the first of P’s life focusing on all the stuff these kids were doing and P couldn’t.  I wasn't mad at her, but it broke my heart for her.  I failed to notice for a long time all the pretty cool stuff she could do and how special the things she did do were.  I don’t know your kid, but stop freaking judging them and comparing them to everything else in the world.  Laugh at their silly way of doing something. Notice how they look at something they love.  Celebrate things they think are cool, even if it is nerdy as all get out.  I lived in the land of unicorns and Minnie Mouses.  If I can find any part of that cool, you can too.  And keep repeating that.  Those are the things you will miss if you are sitting where I am.  If I was sad all the time or didn't pay attention because it wasn't “perfect”, I would have missed all these, and that I couldn't forgive myself for.

    

    I’m not going on the road holding seminars saying these 2 things will make your life perfect.  I’m also not going to limit these to just parenting.  What about your husband or wife?  This road we have been on can make or break relationships, and I’m pretty sure the statistics show it breaks more than makes.  But I started enjoying these moments with not just P, but Ellen too.  I stopped trying to worry about everything going perfect and realized I’m 100% happy eating supper on the couch yelling at those idiots on Wheel of Fortune with her.  Just be happy and enjoy the life you are living.  When situations like mine occur, all you are going to do is second guess and woulda, shoulda, coulda, every single situation.  The good thing is, P taught me these things early, and my moments from then on were perfect.

Google says Sorry, No Results Found

    Surely with Google there should be some sort of guideline and handbook for this stuff.  Let me tell you, there isn’t.  I have looked.  I even got so desperate and hit the 2^nd and 3^rd O at the bottom of the search page on Google.  I will say, if you have never done that, I mean seriously who has, you should sometime because it is an adventure.

     I've got 4,000 emotions running through my head, another 4,000 things I need to do, and 1 image of a little girl picking flowers that overpowers them all.  I want to talk about believing, faith, addiction, cancer (yes, again F you cancer), friends, phone calls, church lady deviled eggs, and grieving.  I want to talk about looking into Josie and Harper’s eyes and seeing my little girl.  I want to, I have to, get all these emotions out somehow but I am not ready to let go.  I can’t hit that publish button because in a way I don’t want you to come into this world.  I talked about not wanting you to know what to say and that it is ok in one of my earlier posts.  I really don’t want you to enter this buzz saw I have going on in my head right now.  Nobody should have to do this, but the truth is they do and it is just part of life. 

    I go from crying about missing my little bit so much that I get sick to smiling because she’s here saying “Daddy, it’s ok.”  I get mad that I couldn't protect my little girl from something to being happy that a little girl touched so many lives.  I spend time talking to P about what she’s going to do today, then worry that when somebody comes over later that I’ll even be able to sit there and talk to them.  I get anxiety about walking out of the house, but feel calm when I feel the breeze because that was her favorite.  This is all before I've even had my first cup of coffee.  So see, in my best Ice Cube voice, “You don’t want none of this.”

     I've written a lot, thought a lot, cried even more, and talked to my little girl a lot over the past few days.  To all of you that have told me to keep writing, I have and I will, it is just going to take some time to let it out.  I wanted to say Let it Go right there, but if that Frozen song gets stuck in my head I will go crazy.  I appreciate all of the love and support.  I’m sorry I don’t have anything more than thank you, but then again, the handbook is blank.

"She looks so Good!?"

                Stage 4 medulloepithelioma cancer. Malignant tumors.  Very aggressive. Weeks to months to live. Those are the highlights that many of you know about P.  Now what does that look like? If you were like me, all I thought about was hospitals, ventilators, feeding tubes, grasping for breath, and crying…..a lot of crying.  Penelope’s diagnosis does not define her.  It never has, and it never will.  My little pigtail princess gives cancer a run for its money every single day. 

                My good friend Josh came by the other day and said something that really stuck with me.  “I sat in the car and prepared myself for what I thought was near the end.  I knew I had to be strong for you while I sat in here.”  We sort of looked at each other and he said, whether he remembers or not, “This isn’t the cancer I was imagining.”  This is exactly what I needed to hear.  In all this pain I carry in my heart from sun up to sun down, I forgot to notice something.  I forgot to notice how P is dealing with cancer.  I’ve been so blinded by how I am dealing with cancer that I haven’t really looked at how she is dealing with this hell. 

                The thing is, this is cancer. This is what it should look like. Strength….Courage…Faith.  She has more strength in that 17 pound body that I’ve ever thought about.  She doesn’t know it is courage, but she’s fighting something she can’t win, but it doesn’t bother her.  She has faith in all those around her.  She has faith that can’t be shaken.  Preacher Ritchey said it best.  “This is where the rubber meets the road when it comes to faith.  It is going to be shaken, bent, crushed, and everything in between.  But it is ok, you will rise above that, because she will.”  There’s a lot of different things you can call it, I simply just call it Pigtails and Steel.

                P knows nothing but to fight.  She doesn’t see it as fighting, but just simply living.  Cancer took her legs, but she still will shake those pigtails like it is going out of style.  She will still move her arms to the best of her ability.  She will still Woo! Cuter than Rick Flair ever hoped for.  She will still smile ever so often because that’s just what she does.  She still looks at her mama when she brushes her teeth.  She will still look me in the eye when I say Daddy loves you before she goes to sleep at night.  It doesn’t matter if it is in a hospital bed, an MRI waiting room, an ambulance, her bff Harper’s boppy, or her favorite place the bean bag, Penelope just does what she wants when she wants.  She lives to live, not live to die.

                I’ve learned to explain her cancer, but not dwell on it.  I’ve learned to see things on the bucket list as her firsts, not her last.  I don’t mind questions about how she’s doing, it gives me an opportunity to talk about her.  I lost a piece of myself in all those hospital rooms and doctor’s offices; that is just what happens.  I have found myself when I walked out of them.  Her diagnosis doesn’t define her, it will also not define me.  I am not the father of a sick girl.  I am a father of Penelope.  She will make her own definition, so I’ll just keep writing until we figure out what that is.

The Dance

            P and I danced in the rain today.  There was no cell phone, no video camera, nothing to catch the moment.  That doesn’t matter.  For those two minutes, no cell phone, no video camera, no nothing could have told you what was going on.  I have no idea why I just walked out there.  It just felt like the right thing to do, so we danced in the rain.

            Penelope will never have the chance to actually dance.  She already had low muscle tone and it was a long shot, but cancer decided it would take that from her first.  Her legs are pretty lifeless and just hang there.  I don’t get to put her feet on mine and dance through the kitchen.  I don’t get to do whatever new dance is on the radio with her and act a fool for Ellen to videotape and probably put on snapchat or facebook for all to see.  I’ll never get to dance with her at a party and laugh because I probably stepped on her toe or am embarrassing her in front of some boy that she likes.  Let’s just stop there and say this pretty much sucks.  All those things Dads “don’t want to do but secretly do”, well Cancer said F you Dad, I’m going to take that from you. 

            Well F you Cancer you can’t take that two minutes away from me.  You can’t take the song in my head that I was humming to her.  You can’t take the drops of rain hitting her cheek and making her rub her face on my shoulder.  I was soaked, but let’s be honest, I was crying enough to drown us both, so at least that masked my tears.  The drops began to slow down and the sun was peeking out over the trees, so I knew our moment was about over. We came inside and simply resumed our normal routine, which yeah, there was that damn Caillou.

            Cancer took all those things from me, but it also gave me something more.  It gave me two minutes of pure Daddy Daughter time.  It gave me a memory that I’ll have for the rest of my life.  Whenever it rains, I’ll smile.  Hell, I’ll probably cry a little too, but the rain will mask that again so it won’t matter.  I don’t have to dwell on what dances won’t happen.  I got to dance right now, and that’s what matters in my life.  Sure I’ll be bitter when I pass out the flyers of the Daddy Daughter dances at school. I just only hope that when they do get to dance, they don’t worry about updates on their cell phone, or count the minutes until they can crack that well deserved beer afterwards.  I hope they get to look down at their daughter and not even hear music over the moment.  Cancer can’t take all those moments, it isn’t that powerful.  We take away those moments from ourselves, and that is just as bad.

My Favorite Thing

                Yaya and Zouk at 730 am.  Now that freaking song is stuck in my head all day.  If you don’t know it, don’t learn it.  I usually pay absolutely no attention to these, but P was stuck on it so I just started watching.  Maybe it was P’s way of saying Daddy you need to see this.  Yaya and Zouk taught me about my favorite thing.  My favorite thing is right now.

                Yaya and Zouk went on an adventure this morning and every time they did something new, it was Yaya’s favorite thing.  It started to piss me off that every 30 seconds she said, “This is my favorite place to be!”  It wasn’t until Zouk got mad too and said not everything can be your favorite, you have to pick!  Then that little nugget of SPROUT wisdom came through.  She responded with, “It is my favorite because it is right now, I just enjoy being here with you; so it’s my favorite. I don’t have to like it all the same, but I treat it that way.” BOOM

                 Well thanks for making me think you little weasel looking creatures.  Now my friends think I’m going crazy watching Sprout for fun, but secretly it is on their TV right now too.

                Is my favorite thing getting 2 meds ready and flushing P’s central line before I even get my morning coffee? No, it sure as hell isn’t.  But is my favorite thing seeing that little face staring at me while I do it? Yes, it sure as hell is.  Is my favorite thing having to feed my daughter through a G-tube and then frantically stopping it because I forgot to cath her? No, it actually sucks.  Is my favorite thing playing with her belly and making her move her arms because it feels good.  Yes, yes it is.  Is my favorite thing laying on a couch not wide enough for me while my daughter can’t get comfortable and rest because she has nerve pain? No, it actually makes me cry.  But holding her hand the whole time and her squeezing my finger can’t be compared to any feeling in the world. 

                We can live a very negative life if we choose.  If I wrote everything a special needs parent has to do in a span of 24 hours, you’d probably agree it would be way easier to just say Screw it and be pissed all the time.  I have to find my favorite things and live off them.  For me, it doesn’t take away from any special moments to say that this is my favorite time.  Right here and now is all I can ask for.  This little slobbering, bubble blowing princess has showed me how happy you can be just living in the moment.  That is all she knows.  She doesn’t care if she’s doing the same thing other 2 year olds are doing.  She is perfectly happy sitting in her bean bag, watching her cartoons with her Daddy holding her hand.  That’s her favorite thing.  It will also be her favorite thing when her Mom blow dries her hair and gets her all prettied up later today.  When her Aura takes her for a walk that will be her favorite thing for those 2 miles. 

                If life was more favorite things, I think we would all be a lot happier.  I still cry, I still get mad and cuss, but that’s part of it.  I don’t ask God why anymore, I don’t think ahead, and I sure don’t take anything for granted.  Instead I just ask for more favorite things, look for them now, and love every second of it.  

Facebook and Fundraisers

           I’m the last person to ask for help on anything.  You can ask the people I work with or my family.  They get frustrated because they are some of the most caring people in the world and when they ask I just give them the “I’m ok, we will be fine.”  That’s just how I have always been.  My parents raised me to take care of my situation because they always did.  You find a way to make it work and just do it.  It isn’t that I can’t ask for help, I just don’t. I’ve always been on the other side of these things.  I’ve always been the one showing up to mow yards, take out the trash, put money in an envelope, or especially delivering Mama’s food.  Brit would sign me up for the craziest shit you have ever heard of and pick me up in the van with no time for me even to ask “what am I doing now?”  I always wondered why? Of course I would have rather been riding my bike over on Oak Hills or playing basketball, but somebody needed help and that’s just what you did.  Brit and my parents exposed me to all sorts of situations that at the time I didn’t get it, but now I see the importance of what I was doing.

I never thought about being on this side of it all.  Now that I am, I see it from a totally different perspective that isn’t exactly overwhelming, but I don’t have enough time to thank each person for what it truly means to me.

Facebook brings people out of the woodwork.  Usually I mindlessly scroll through Facebook looking at stupid comments on My Greeneville, who has baby Daddy drama, and my favorite Jason and James Horne posts.  I rarely give any attention in my life to what is on Facebook after I close the app.  I really can’t stand scrolling through there more than a couple times a day.  Just ask Ellen, I usually make fun of her for looking at the same stupid stories and creeping comments for the 20^th time that day.  Lately that has changed.  Facebook was originally made to connect people, and lately that has done more than connect, it has brought people together for a greater good.  Through Penelope’s Path, almost 52,000 people saw her story.  That blows my mind.  For even a split second, my little girl was on the minds of 50,000 people.  Over 1200 people changed their profile pic to purple.  Just for one little girl and one little family.  So now instead of mindlessly scrolling through Facebook, it gives me a purpose and reason.  To hear I love you from someone in my past, to hear that Sweet P is beautiful, to hear that they care, helps me stay sane.  That 10 seconds it takes to write a status or a comment to one of her posts brings 10 seconds that I can’t be upset.  So even if I don’t comment or respond, I promise you I see it.  It might be at 2am when I can’t sleep, but sometimes that’s the best time.

Fundraisers are another story.  What has been raised for my family and for research has been overwhelming.  Through Tshirts, bracelets, and just simply donations have made one aspect of this life we live for lack of better words, better.  I can’t even begin to thank those that have donated or wear a tshirt with Penelope’s name on it.  It isn’t just money.  It isn’t a number in an account or a cash register.  It is a plane ticket for a sister in law to come be with her sister and niece that is needed more than she knows.  It is a hotel room 1 block away from St. Jude’s that an Aura and Pop can stay for a couple nights and be close to a little girl that means more to them than anything.  It is a meal that family can sit together and be happy in the moment over some pretty incredible barbeque.  It isn’t a check that goes into the bank, but a cup of Dip N Dots that P gets to try on a trip to the zoo with the Ritchey’s.  It’s part of a plan for a room at the beach for a night so P can feel the ocean breeze and her Mama can carry her into the ocean with a smile on her face while her Daddy takes blurry pictures because he is too in the moment to focus.

 Your donation to a research project at St. Jude’s is even more than that.  It is a family’s peace of mind that behind those doors that say research, somebody is able to try to find a way to make not only their child better, but more after them.  It is a room at the Tri Delta, Ronald McDonald, or Target house for their stay.  It is a bed that although isn’t their own, is a place they don’t have to worry about fixing while sitting in a waiting room.

I don’t even know what amount or where it even all comes from.  I don’t even know some of the people that have changed a profile picture purple or sent a message.  It isn’t about that.  One dollar is more than cents, it is part of a memory.  One profile picture is more than just a few clicks, but part of a movement for healing and support.  Thank you isn’t enough.  That is why we share her pictures, he adventures, her bucket list.  That is why we share the bad news, the struggles, and the hurt.  It is because we are all connected in this.  When things like Facebook and Fundraisers happen, don’t see them as “likes” and dollars.  Measure them in the ways we do; Memories and Opportunity.  

I Don't Know What To Say

“I don’t know what to say” is usually a part of most conversations I have now.  “I can’t even imagine what you are going through” usually follows it.  “I just want you to know I’m thinking and praying for you all” usually ends the message.  People closest to me and those whom I’ve never met both use these phrases.  My family even says it.  Those words seem so redundant and I’m sure when you type them or say them you say it in your head, “I bet he’s heard this a million times, but I don’t know what else to say.

            I just want you to know that it is ok.  It is enough.  I don’t want you to know what to say. I don’t want you to imagine this. Knowing that you are thinking about us right now means more than you know.  It is ok, I promise.

            One of the best doctors in the world didn’t know exactly what to say either and he’s the freaking man when it comes to these situations.  All Dr. Armstrong was left with was, “I can’t cure this.”  So if the best in the world couldn’t come up with anything more, I don’t expect you to.  These situations suck worse than anything.  Nobody wants to see a child sick or hurting, especially a little one that has had to fight their whole life.  The English language, as complicated and intricate as it is, doesn’t have a magic combination that is made for these situations.  Cancer takes the words out of your mouth.  It has a funny way of taking a situation that seems like it needs words of encouragement and leaves you speechless.  Truthfully, as a Dad in this situation, I don’t know what to say either.  All I can tell Penelope is that Daddy loves you.  I can’t say magic words to make her feel better.  I sure as hell can’t sing a song that helps (that usually causes more crying by anybody hearing it).  I couldn’t soothe her for 2 weeks when I picked her up screaming by saying softly “It’s ok baby, shhhh”, so I can’t even imagine someone seeing the situation from the outside would have anything either.  It is ok though.  Chalk up another F you to cancer for taking everything we know we should say and leave it on the tip of our tongues.

            I don’t want you to imagine this happening to your family or your little one.  I don’t wish this on my worst enemy.  You don’t want to think about sitting in the back room of E Clinic to hear your little pigtail princess has an incurable cancer that they don’t know very much about.  I don’t want you to have to sit in front of an MRI to see these little white glowing masses that are taking over your child’s body and you can’t do anything about it.  I don’t want you to have to look at your baby every night and when you kiss her forehead wonder if this is the last time you will get to do this.  I don’t want you to have to make a bucket list of things that you’ll never get to do again.  So now that we are both crying, STOP.  I have to stop myself too.  Life isn’t about dying, it is about living.  So instead of imagining that, just live.  I can’t imagine months or years anymore.  I have to live and do it now.  So that’s why you shouldn’t.  We take it hour by hour day by day.  If all I did was imagine, I might miss out of on something.  We just have to do better with what we have in front of us.  Imagining doesn’t get us anywhere.  I can imagine a different life, but that’s not going to help anybody.  So it’s ok, I promise. I don’t want you to imagine this, because it isn’t going to get anybody anywhere.

            I can honestly say that thinking of us, praying for us, or sending good vibes our way is enough.  I know it doesn’t seem like you are doing anything, but you are.  I was talking to a Dad about the different prayers at the football field, softball field, baseball field, and the countless prayer lists people have added us to.  He said it best.  “Damn man, I couldn’t imagine the strength that gives you to go through this junk.”  I started to think about it.  I know we weren’t there for those prayers, but I felt them.  Seeing the pictures of them hit me straight in the heart.  How could I give up and give in when all these people are behind us?  The answer is you can’t.  It isn’t about letting someone down, it is about showing them that there is power in people coming together as a community, as a team, or even as a family and showing that they care.  I don’t care what your religious affiliation or even if you believe in God.  God didn’t do this and there is no “reason” for this to happen, but what has come from this is bigger than any one of us.  That you can’t deny.  Dr. Dan prayed with us continually before we even knew what we were getting into.  I listened to Mrs. Gail pray for her in our makeshift bed at Lebonheur that was one of the most beautiful prayers because I know it came straight from her heart to ours.  Mr. Ritchey gave us strength to go to St. Jude’s with his prayer for us as a family.  Coach Hollowell and his wife Sarah surprised us at St. Jude’s on a night that I was really struggling.  Instead of sitting there crying and feeling sorry, they gave me an hour of good stories and ended with a prayer that reminded me what was important.  I don’t know all the words that have been said either in prayer or in just simple thoughts about my little girl, but I can tell you they matter and mean more than anyone knows. 

            It is a very easy cop out to say “thank you, I appreciate it.”  Honestly, that’s all I’ve got.  I talked with a Dad down there from Indianapolis who was fighting for his last chance with his little boy.  I asked him how he handled all the love and support.  Well after we talked for an hour, all we came up with is, “Thank you, I appreciate it.”  Cancer took my words too.  It kills me that I can’t say more, but I am trying to figure out all this too.  Those words come from my heart, and I promise if I had better ones I’d say them too.  It really does mean a lot and many times I get a message or call with no more than “I’m sorry bud, I’m thinking about you and am here for you,” is really what I needed to keep going. 

            Cancer takes a lot from us.  It will one day take my little girl.  What it can’t take is a community and family that has come together for a greater good.  It can’t take my fight and sure as hell won’t make me quit.  It might take our words from us, but what words it does leave us with are meaningful and do matter.  Sitting on a bench in the middle of St. Jude’s can be a lonely place.  Let’s be real, sitting anywhere right now in this situation sucks.  I can’t get too down because somebody somewhere is thinking of us and I promise, that’s enough and it makes that moment ok.

My letter to Cancer

Dear Cancer,

   First off, F you and all your different types.  I've always seen you show up around me.  My grandfather fell to you, and many family friends have battled you throughout my life.  It wasn't until you invaded my precious little girl that I really started to hate you fully.  I've always known you could destroy cells and take over people's body.  There are a lot of other things I have learned about you while our family has been at St. Jude.  So before I go any further, just know you are getting this letter from a Dad that is stronger than he has ever been before, so when I say I will fight, you better pack your lunch because I don't plan on ever giving up.
   I will admit, you scared the shit out of me at first.  When I heard the word Cancer and my daughter in the same sentence, I cried.  I cried for days because you made me feel helpless.  I have always felt for those who you have invaded, but this was a different kind of feeling.  What I didn't know is what I would learn from you.  I learned how strong my 22 month 16 pound little girl is.  Even though that you took her legs from her, she still smiles, still loves Minnie Mouse, and still has enjoyed doing things like going to the Zoo and seeing Graceland.  You have taken one of her favorite things in kicking her legs, but she's still looking at her Daddy with those beautiful eyes saying "I'm ok, lets go have fun, screw this Cancer."  I learned how strong my wife and I are together and that you might break us down at night, but when it comes to it, we don't even think about you and do what we have to with and for our little girl.  I learned that through writing I can clear my head and not let you consume my thoughts.  How you like them apples?  You might be fighting against us and you might win one day, but you can't make us quit.
   I learned that there are people like Dr. Armstrong and Dr. Dave.  I know for a fact if it wasn't for them being in our corner, we wouldn't be at the place in our hearts and minds that we are now.  They fight you every day and have a pretty dang good record against you.  They are amazing men and with their entire staff, will continue the fight for all these precious angels that come into E Clinic.
   I learned the strength and grace of children like no other.  You might make them wear masks outside to ward off infection, you might take a limb or even their hair.  The one thing you can't take is their souls.  I don't care what you do, but every kid sitting there is giving you the proverbial middle finger and fighting with more strength than you'll ever have.
   I know you have learned some things from Penelope and her soldiers as well.  You probably thought you could just set in her brain and spine and take over without a fight.  Yep, you are an idiot.  She continues to do things you say she can't and will to the last day.
   I bet you didn't think a community would surround our family with love and prayer to the point we cry out of happiness and our hearts being touched as much as we do sadness.  Tshirts, profile pics, hashtags, the high school lights, and hundreds of messages have poured out over the past weeks to show support of anything that stands against you.  Some people have never met Penelope, but have gained strength in their life through our fight.  There have been more prayers sent to the Man above than you have cells.  God's army is stronger than your army of cells any day.  You might test my Faith, and truthfully you shook it pretty good.  All I did for weeks was ask why? I still do, but knowing we have an army of people behind us praying will only get me through this.  Get you some of that.  
   I bet you didn't think high school kids would turn against you like this.  I bet you didn't think that teenagers, who are normally consumed with other things, would stop and band together for this little girl.  Through prayers at ball fields and at home they have come to realize the evil in this world should be met head on.  They have put P's on wristbands, banners, helmets, gloves, tweets, statuses, and most importantly in their hearts.  One of them one day might be affected by you, but they see the strength that it takes and will be ready for you.
   We have a new normal that is a part of our daily lives thanks to you.  You have taken a possible future away from us, but you can't take the present.  You have made us more alive and in the moment than ever before.  I notice everything now.  I cherish every moment.  People have come together for a cause, and that in itself has power.  God has been present this whole time, we've just had to look for him and search for him.  I don't believe everything happens for a reason, but this is our journey and we although we don't have to accept it, we can make the best out of it.  When life gave us this lemon, we made orange juice and had you question how the hell did we just do that.  I want you to go away forever, but I know there is still work to be done here at St. Jude's for that to happen.  They will learn from my little girl and use that against you.  Cancer you will lose one day.  I'm a mess inside and will be for a long time.  I cry every day about something.  I'm also Penelope's Dad.  That means Pigtails and steel will not let you take everything.  We are too strong for that.

Sincerely not yours,

Andy McCall, better known as Sweet P's Dad