“David Foster's Kicking Kidney Cancer’s Arse”

Well I made it!

Thank you to all of you who posted comments last week.  I was going to come back on the 15th and post a little something, but I just couldn't.  I don't know why, but even on my own blog, I remained silent.  Maybe because writing is so personal for me, as it was for my Dad.  Writing on that day just seemed impossible.  Granted I had inadvertently filled my schedule with appointments and functions as to avoid moments when my mind could settle on the subtle reminders of my dad.  But I still could not escape.  I may have told you this before, but I never deleted my dad's number from my phone.  And on Wednesday, I was scrolling through my phone book looking for a friend's number when I saw his.  I almost dialed it just to see if he would answer. 

Maybe it's all been some kind of weird dream. If that were the case though, it would mean the last year never happened, which would mean that my daughter, Madison, would not exist.  You know what kills me?  He didn't even know she existed.  She wasn't conceived until after he passed.  Granted right after he passed, but still.  His eighth and probably final grandchild would come into the world unbeknown to him.  Of course none of my kids will remember him.  Even if they had seen him daily, which they didn't, they would still have no recollection of David Foster, though there are many ties to him.

My oldest shares Dad's middle name, Crawford.  On the same day we went in for our big sonogram, Dad found out his had cancer.  Two days after Owen was born, my dad had his kidney removed.  Blake, my middle child, shares many of Dad's facial features, definitely a Foster child.  I see Dad every time I look at him, especially when he is in time out.  He inherited Dad's "eat shit" look.  And my youngest, little Madison, was conceived in the wake of his death.  It's a really good thing I don't believe in reincarnation.  Although wouldn't that be hell for Daddy, to come back as his daughter's daughter.  Talk about karma (which I don't believe in either).

Some of you have sent me personal emails, which I love to read, and have asked me about how I dealt with my dad's death at the time.  I blogged.  This weekend I went back through all my posts and tagged the ones that talked about Dad.  If you'd like to read about it, you may.  My blog is www.hillsofchoas.blogspot.com.  On the right hand side is a list of labels (tags).  Just click on "Dad".

One Year Tomorrow

Yes, I know...I have not been faithful in updating the blog.  I've thought about it several time over the last year, but I allowed life to distract me.  Distraction.  That is the appropriate word, isn't it? After all, I am my father's daughter.  I've journeyed through most of this year pretending like April 15, 2008 never happened, or trying to at least.  Dad's cell phone number is still programmed into my phone.  Sometimes I think if I call it, he'll answer and I'll wake up from this horrible dream.  But we all know that's not going to happen. 

Tomorrow marks the one year anniversary.  One year!  That's a whole heck of a lot of distraction.  The Master's happened this past week in Augusta, which in the words of my dad, "I don't give a shit."  But sure enough, they remind me of him, of those five weeks in Augusta, GA, ofhim saying those very words.  Even sitting in church, a place he didn't much frequent, on Easter Sunday, I was reminded of how I spent last Easter driving down to Georgia two toddlers in tow.  Everything lately reminds me of him, even the devilish look in my two year old's eyes when he's on the brink of disobedience.

And then I think of what he's missed this part year.  The birth of his eighth grandchild he didn't even know was on the way, the inauguration of America's first black president, a plane crash where everyone survived,  just to name a few. I'm sure you all have things you'd want to tell him if he were still here.  Well, that's what I'm doing tomorrow and I invite you to join me.  I'm writing a letter to Dad just to fill him in, to let him know we're all okay down here (or maybe we're not). 

Not sure how many people still check in from time to time, but I thought some might come back for the anniversary and I wanted to be here to greet you.  You were all so near and dear to his heart.  I've made it so all comments can be posted freely, no approvals required, so speak freely (and cleanly).

A Whole New World

Thank you for the fabulous emails I received.  It helped me to realize how many people still check in on the blog daily and don't even know why.  Don't worry.  You're not alone.   To be honest with you, I can't even bring myself to read his blogs.  In fact, when I come to the blog, I come through the "manage" section as to avoid his picture.   It's just too raw for me.  Sometimes it's hard for me to believe that's it's been almost two months, and other times I struggle to believe it happened at all. 

Father's Day is coming up, and if it weren't for the fact that my children have a wonderful father who deserves to be honored, I'd pretend the day didn't exist.  It just makes me think about all those Father's Days I should have done more.  I suck at sending cards, great at buying them, crappy at mailing them.  So most of the time, Dad would have to settle for a phone call.  Come to think of it, Dad was probably okay with that.  Though he appreciated the sentiment of a card or gift,  he'd  tell me to forgo the commercialism and stick with the personal touch of a phone call.  Now I'm not sure how much he really believed that, but with David Foster, you are forced to take what he says at face value.  Dad liked to stay near the surface, but there were a  few rare moments of depth and vulnerability when Dad let down his guard, mostly towards the end of his life.  I remember a time shortly after I arrived in Augusta.  Dad was still at home, and my job consisted of watching reruns of One Tree Hill (don't ask) on the internet while he slept off the chemo and various mind altering drugs.   I had just brought Dad a glass of water and literally a bite to eat,  turned out the light per his request, and as I was walking out the door, Dad said, "Thanks for taking care of me sugar."  You have to understand the true depth of this statement.  First of all, Dad admitted that he needed to be taken care of...huge step.  Second, how humbling is it to admit that to your very offspring?  I got it, as soon as he said it, I realized that Dad was breaking down a wall, a structure I had come to know quite well, a fortress with a one way door designed to let people out but not in.  In seven spoken words, I saw a few bricks start to tumble down off the structure, it's integrity being compromised by it's own architect.  Now I'm not saying it came down completely, but it was a beginning, and I will never forget that moment.

You might be wondering if there were other times in my life when Dad let down his guard.  I'm sure there were, but the brain cells containing my long term memory have most likely been given to my two sons so they'll grow up to be geniuses and save the world.   Of course I have memories of Dad, tons, but none (that I can remember) where I was able to see beyond what he wanted me to see.   

As per your request, or some of you at least, I'll be sharing some of my memories of Dad in the next few blogs.  It will be good for me and will help me get past the last few months to a time when Dad was just Dad, and not a dying man.  I invite you to join with me, share your stories and memories, but not just of Dad either, of whoever or whatever you feel like.  Let's heal together.

How to Continue

I've been thinking about you all a lot lately.  I'm not sure how many of you still check in, but I want you to know that I have not forgotten.  I'd like to continue to keep the blog up to date, but at the same time, I'm not sure what to write.   If you have any ideas as to how we can continue to use this blog to encourage others, please let us know.  In the meantime, I'd love to hear your stories, either by posting comments or by emailing me at hills4neil@msn.com!  And for that matter, I'm sure others could benefit as well.

I'll check in daily. 

A Small Gift From Dad

You guys might enjoy this story.  I went up to Philly to visit my best friend this weekend.  As I was leaving, she gave me a bag of maternity clothes she had borrowed and told me that she was giving back a book I'd given to here a few months ago.  Apparently there was an inscription in the book from my dad, or someone's dad.  I was flabbergasted.  As I pulled the book out of the bag and opened to the front page, I saw his signature, "Dad."   Sure enough, it was from him, dated 11-15-87.  I was nine years old and my parents had just told me they were getting a divorce.   Seeing his name, as I knew it, on that page brought back a slew of memories, both good and bad.  But at least I wasn't remembering the cancer, the empty shell, or the weeks of downward spirals.  The timing was no coincidence.  It's been over a month, and reality is starting to set in.  He's really gone, for good.  But this gift, twice given, has brought a piece of my dad back to me, a piece buried and recovered. 

Just thought you might enjoy the story.

Out of Death, Comes Life

Some of you may already know this (if you read my blog), but I thought I would let you know that I just found out that I'm pregnant.  This is Hillary, by the way, and not Sherry.  You probably guessed that, but I was just making sure.  Dad would have appreciated the irony in that, though he would have thought I was crazy for having three children under 4. 

My mom said last night, "It's a good thing we don't believe in reincarnation."  Yeah, that's just a scary thought.  I love my dad and would do anything to see him again...except that.  This will be Dad's 8th grandchild.  What a legacy!  If he were still here, I would have told him tomorrow when he called to wish me a Happy Birthday (the Big 30).  I still can't believe he won't be calling. 

I hope you are all doing well.  Please keep us informed as to your own battles.  I'm addicted to your stories as well.   Thank you again for your thoughts and prayers. 

David Immortalized

I realize it's been a while since I've had the honor of writing to you all.  I'm back in Maryland now attempting to re assimilate into my life, with my husband, my two kids, my business, my home, etc... 

A couple of things to update you on.  The first is this beautiful photo tribute to my dad, done by the folks at Gray's Sporting Journal.  There are some pictures of me in there, but all are several years old.  I think I just might have to post my favorite pic of Dad and me on my blog tonight or tomorrow. 

Secondly, I'm working on a fundraiser in Dad's memory for the American Cancer Society (and for all of you out there fighting this hideous disease).  For the time being, I'm a consultant for Pampered Chef, and in the month of May, it's "Help Whip Cancer" month where we can raise up to 30% of sales for the A.C.S.  Well, I'm taking it a step further and donating my entire commission.  My goal is submit $2000 in sales which would equal a $800 donation to cancer research and prevention.  To learn more, go to my blog and look for the column on the top right.  I told you guys I was joining this battle with you. 

Thank you!  Hillary

I've only just figured out how to download posts. I'm at a loss how to proceed. I've received cards from so many people, some of whom I've never met or heard of but who obviously had a relationship with David. Either via cyberspace or real world. I've come to see another facet of my most amazing husband. If only this sort of thing were possible early on in our lives. It's truly comforting. We also have the most wonderful friends. I'm overwhelmed. God bless you all.
sherry