Four Years Later.

Four years ago, my whole life was literally turned upside down. I remember the whole day like it was yesterday… my sister woke me up and told me that our Dad had passed away. Every year around this time I get hit with a flood of emotions. Facebook memories pop up from us posting our Dad’s diagnosis to posting days later he passed away. It reminds me this is real, it happened… and I relive it all over again. I can still see my sisters face telling me what had happened, I remembered what pajamas I was wearing, I remember the drive to the hospital, I remember getting to the hospital and seeing my mom in tears. It’s one of those things no matter how hard you try to forget how traumatic it was… you can’t.

For those of you who knew my Dad – he never missed a day of work and he rarely ever got sick. He started getting back pain in April. When he was forced to take a medical leave in May 2016 people started asking questions. Questions none of us had answers to. Specialist after specialist couldn’t seem to figure out why he had such bad back pain. Since it was his back, doctors would just say go to the chiropractor, take some pain meds, you’ll be fine. It wasn’t until the middle of August that he had a CT scan which showed he had a mass in his esophagus and spread throughout his body. I honestly didn’t believe it. It didn’t make any sense. How could he have suffered this long with no one being able to find out what was going on and help him. How could he go that many months without anyone figuring out what was wrong with him? If someone caught it sooner, would my Dad still be here? He got admitted into the hospital August 26^th… fast forward to September 4^th… he was gone. He was only 58.

I was in St. Paul when we found this all out as I was working with the Winnipeg Goldeyes at the time. I wasn’t going to go – but the Fish were in a playoff push, and of course my Dad was the one who told me I need to be there, “you need to get that ring, the guys need you. I am going to be okay”. Just as I arrived to the ballpark for the game, my brother called me and told me I need to come home NOW.. our Dad had terminal cancer and had days left to live. I honestly think I just dropped to the ground. I barely even remember that night. I couldn’t believe what he was telling me. It was already 7pm that night and I couldn’t get a flight out till the next morning.  I cried that whole night, didn’t sleep, my head was pounding, and I was throwing up… a few players stayed with me that night as some of them knew about my Dad’s diagnosis, and one even woke up early on their off day to drive me to the airport. I just wanted to get home. All my Dad kept saying that whole season was “make sure you get that ring!” Sure enough, the Goldeyes clinched the wild card spot the day after Dad passed and continued on to win the championship that year. I got my ring and was able to customize it in memory of my Dad. Something that will forever be so special.

He passed away the morning of the Labour Day Classic. For those who knew my Dad, he HATED when the Bombers lost, but more so hated losing to the Riders. I begged him every year to go to Labour Day and he never wanted too, he couldn’t bare to be in Riderville as they celebrated a win over the Bombers. Ironically it was Justin Medlock who kicked the game winning field goal – another JM. The first time in 11 years the Bombers won the Labour Day Classic. While at Variety, my Dad created “Kick for Kids” – every time the Bombers kicked a field goal, a donation would be made to Variety.

A lot of people knew my Dad as the “marketing guy” at the Bombers. My Dad started working for the Bombers in 2000. We grew up around Canad Inns Stadium. In 2007, I started working part-time at the Bomber Store which meant I would be seeing my Dad more around the stadium. I know he wasn’t very fond of the idea that “Jerry’s daughter” worked at the stadium, but I think he secretly liked it. We got to spend A LOT more time together and grew closer over our love of sports. We worked there together for eight seasons. Those eight seasons I now hold so close to me. I got to see my Dad in a whole other light. Seeing him pour his heart and soul into something he was so passionate about. He would get so excited to show me his new marketing campaigns, commercials, radio ads, and billboards. His office door was always open to everyone… office staff, players, coaches, and even fans. He had the biggest heart and always had time to listen to people and always had time to help them with whatever they needed. You need a car? Jerry’s got you. You need a place to stay? Jerry’s got you. He decided to close the doors with the Bombers in 2014 and head over to Variety to be their CEO. Him and I still laughed about it after, but I bawled like a baby at his going away celebration…even though I was going home with him that day, seeing him at the dinner table that night, and living in the same house!

Moving onto Variety is where my Dad really shined. He had such a passion about helping people and it aligned perfectly with Variety’s kids. It was all about the kids for him. Making sure they were looked after. He implemented numerous fundraising initiatives; eventually breaking the record for the total amount of fundraising dollars raised in one year at his last Gala in May of 2016 before he got sick. It was this Gala that him and I have our last pictures together. They will forever be my two favourite photos.

Once the news got out that Dad had cancer, the amount of people who reached out was overwhelming. People from the CFL, former and current players, his childhood friends, and people who didn’t even know my Dad reached out to me providing some stories about him. As broken as I was, it was comforting… comforting knowing how big of an impact he left on the community and the impact he had on people. During his celebration of life, I heard so many stories about my Dad I had never known. It was really cool to connect with people near and far and hear things about my Dad. To this day, I still love when people reach out or tell me stories about him.

After Dad passed, a lot of people who reached out kept telling me how strong I was. How was able to speak at my own father’s funeral? How was I able to sing a song dedicated to him at a memorial concert? Honestly, I don’t know how I did it. My Dad was one of the strongest people I knew even up to his final days. I felt his strength with me to help me push through.

On Valentine’s day in 2015, I woke up to a envelope left on the kitchen table that said “Tara Bara Boo” written by my Dad along with a box of my favourite chocolates. He has never EVER EVER EVER got me my own card, no matter what the occasion was. My birthday cards were always signed by my Mom. He knew I thought this was a dumb holiday so maybe that’s why he decided to get me a card? To this day, I will never know. I then opened up the envelope and immediately burst into tears. The fact that he even took a few minutes out of his insanely busy schedule to go get me this card with the sweetest message inside was so special. I grabbed my phone right away to text him to thank him and tell him how much I love him. Later that day we went for lunch together.  I then took that same card to a tattoo shop a few weeks after this death and got it on me… forever. On my left arm so I can see it and look at it everyday. The card is now framed and up on my wall right when you walk into my apartment.

My heart always broke for people who have lost loved ones, especially parents…I was once on the other side of not knowing what to say to the person because there wasn’t anything I could possibly say to them to take away the hurt, the pain, the anger. It’s one of those things I felt would NEVER happen to me. But it did… I was that person who lost their parent. No one can prepare you for something like this. I knew our time was limited, but never did I think it would be happen so quickly. I didn’t only lose my Dad… I lost my best friend, my go to, my rock… my person.

This whole experience has opened my eyes to a lot. People who I thought would always be there for me, weren’t. People who I didn’t expect to be there, stepped up. Even to this day, my friendships with people have stayed the same but it almost feels like people have forgotten that this is something I deal with every day… every day for the last 4 years. And I’ve come to terms with it – I can’t be upset about that because like I said, I’ve been on the other side not knowing what to do or say to the person. But the empty feeling of losing my Dad doesn’t go away, it’s with me every single day. When I am having a “day” people seem to avoid me rather than comfort me. Then there are some people who are scared to ask me about my Dad thinking it will upset me. Truth is, I love talking about my Dad. I am so proud of everything my Dad did and the person he was that I will continue to talk about him. His passing reconnected me with a lot of people, and I am thankful for that. People I don’t know still often check in with me. There is a handful of people I always get a text from on his birthday, Father’s Day, Christmas letting me know they are thinking of me, and for that I am forever grateful and lucky I have people like that in my life.

I have always been very public posting about my family but especially my Dad and I. I was so lucky to be able to have such a close relationship with him. I appreciated it so much. He wasn’t just my Dad, but he was my best friend. My go to for advice about work, boys and life… honestly anything. Whether it was a simple text to tell me he how much he loved me, a silly emoji, or just to tell me how proud of me he was… it always made me feel better. He always called me sweetheart – “I love you sweetheart” “I am so proud of you sweetheart”. I will never be able to put into words how much I miss him, but I will forever cherish every single picture, every single text, every written note, and conversations we had together.

Many people knew Dad as the “”marketing guy” from the Bombers, but to us he was the best father. He loved deeply, cared fiercely and was always there for us. He loved my Mom and always made sure she was happy. He never wanted my sisters puppy to be left alone, he always wanted us to text him when we arrived safely… even if it was just a 15 minute ride to work. He was the most easy-going guy. He had different relationships with all of us. He was the person we looked up to. Our Dad had the answers to everything. He had the biggest heart and genuinely cared about people. He had a passion for helping. Even up to his final days, he was more worried about all of us than himself. He loved us all so much. We were so damn lucky.

The last night I saw my Dad was in the hospital. I left the Goldeyes game early that night and wanted to make sure I saw him to say goodnight. During his last few days my Dad wasn’t himself… he knew who we were but the things he was saying didn’t make sense. But that Saturday night when I went back to the hospital to say goodnight, he grabbed my hand and said, “I am so proud of you sweetheart”. Trying not to completely break down in front of him, I kissed him and told him how much I loved him and that I would see him tomorrow. As I drove home, I broke down. How could this be happening. I am angry… so angry. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t get to see my Dad the next day as he passed away early that morning. I couldn’t talk to him again, I wasn’t able to tell him I loved him again or how thankful I was for our relationship. It  couldn’t be real… he couldn’t be gone. What am I supposed to do without him? How does my life go on without him?

Here is what I learnt these last four years… Grieving the lose of someone never ends. Even when you think it does… it doesn’t. It’s still there and comes at you when you least expect it. It’s like a maze with no end in sight. A rollercoaster with twists and turns and ups and downs. There is no right or wrong way to deal with the grieving process. Death and grief have no type of rules or any navigation and everyone deals with it differently and that is okay. My Dad’s diagnosis and passing happened so fast.. the only word I can think of is traumatic.  You can never “prepare” for death to happen. I still am finding ways to cope and deal with it four years later. I still have days I completely break down and days I don’t want to get out of bed or talk to anybody. Then there are some days I feel like he away on a work trip and I will see him when he gets back. It all still feels like a bad dream.

Dad, I cannot wait to see you again, give you the biggest hug and never let you go. In the meantime, I will hold down the fort here. I will continue to carry you and your strength with me everyday, continue to be there for Mom, Kaylee, and Bobby, continuing talking about you and carrying on your legacy.

I will never be able to put into words how much I miss you. I love you so much Papa J.

When I am gone, release me, let me go.
I have so many things to see and do.
You mustn’t tie yourself to me with tears,
Be happy that we had so many years.
I gave you my love and you can only guess,
How much you gave me in happiness.
I thank you for the love you each have shown,
But now it’s time I traveled alone.
So grieve awhile for me, if grieve you must
Then let your grief be comforted by trust.
It’s only for awhile that we must part
So bless the memories within your heart.
I won’t be far away, for life goes on,
So, if you need me, call and I will come.
Though you can’t see or touch me, I’ll be near,
And if you listen with your heart,
You’ll hear all my love around you soft and clear.
And then, when you must come this way alone,
I’ll greet you with a smile and say. “Welcome Home.”