Weddingbee Blog

There is one aspect of our wedding that is somewhat tough for me to even think about, much less blog about. That is the fact that my dad won’t be there.

Dad with Flat Stanley

My dad passed away in May of 2008. He suffered from a rare autoimmune disorder, known as Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis, or PSC. (So rare, in fact, that when you Google “PSC,” it’s only the fifth thing that pops up.) The layman’s explanation for it is that it causes your liver to function improperly, over time destroying it, bit by bit. My dad was diagnosed with the disease back in 1993. He felt normal at that time. He began to get pretty sick around 1999 or 2000. In January 2002, he had a very successful liver transplant. He bounced back to his old self, even going back to work again for several years.

My dad and me at my college graduation, with MOH D, the Dude, and my mom

In the Spring of 2007 (my first year of law school), he came down with a rare fungal infection in his sinus cavity. The doctors weren’t sure what it was at first, but soon we knew it was serious. He spent several days in the ICU at Baylor Medical Center, in and out of consciousness. We weren’t sure if he was going to make it. I drove back and forth frantically between Dallas and Austin, making sure to complete all of my first-year final exams. After all, everyone kept telling me my dad would’ve wanted me to finish the semester. When I left the hospital to take my last exam, I wrote my dad a letter in case he got better and was able to communicate again, letting him know how much I wanted to be there with him. Part of me believed I would never see him alive again.

My dad with me and my two brothers, Halloween 1990

After taking my last final, I headed back to Dallas. My dad was doing better, and they moved him to a private room and out of ICU. He had permanently lost some motor function in one side of his face, and he’d gone through multiple oral surgeries to remove the fungus–they took out half of his top teeth and cut a hole in the roof of his mouth. But he was 100% back mentally, and he was determined to fight as strong as ever.

Dad with teeny baby me

During the fungus scare, the doctors backed way off on my dad’s anti-rejection medication that he took daily to keep his body from rejecting his liver. After the scare was over, although he seemed like his regular, healthy self again, his liver numbers never fully went back to normal. He was back in the hospital by Thanksgiving of 2007, with his body showing signs of rejection. After this point, he continued to live life as fully as possible, taking trips with my mom and seeming like the same old Dad I had always known and loved. My mom took care of him every step of the way. He fought the disease with all his might, but she’s the one who enabled him to do that.

The whole fam at my youngest brother’s high school graduation, May 2007

By the end of the Spring semester in 2008, his health was declining rapidly again. My mom called me and my brothers to come home to be with him in his last days. He passed away on May 24, 2008, holding each of my brothers by the hand.

I felt cheated at first that I didn’t get to spend more time with him. I still miss him every day, but I know how lucky I am to have had such an amazing father. I know he will be with me on my wedding day, even though he can’t physically walk me down the aisle.

Whenever I think of my dad, I think of sitting on a chair at my parents’ house reading a book and hearing him strumming “Here Comes the Sun” on his guitar, singing along softly. That’s why I got this tattoo, dedicated to his memory. Now I will always carry a little piece of him with me, wherever I go. It also reminds me that no matter how sad his death is, the memories my family and I have of him will always make us smile.

It means “Here Comes the Sun” (roughly) in Irish Gaelic

My dad is the reason that I believe in myself. He always believed in me. He always treated me like a person, like an adult, even before I had fully earned that honor. I mean for this post to serve as a dedication to his life, as well as an acknowledgment that this wedding I’m getting ready to have, while incredibly exciting, is not the only thing that matters. I would give everything up–the flowers, the dress, the fancy cocktails, the ruffly shoes–to have my dad here once again.