In January when Dad got sick, Dad had called my sister and left her a voicemail the night before his repiratory system failed on him & he would not speak normally again. She has kept that voicemail, and I've been so jealous that I didn't ever keep things. I didn't keep cards or anything. Well, until now.

Yesterday, I found 3 voicemails from my Dad dating back to November.

The first was the day before Thanksgiving. He had just received a call asking for another lumbar puncture. I remember that day. His eye had closed on him and he felt awful. Anyway, I listened to the voicemails and immediately bawled. It was so bittersweet to hear his voice. I mean, I hear him in my head all the time, but to be reminded of his voice was so great.

I miss that man so much it hurts. Everything reminds me of him. Everything. To think that a year ago, he was so healthy.

The hospital that treated him has not said one thing to me or my sister. We have been sent a standard grievance packet, but not one thing from his oncologist. The oncologist that waited 3 weeks to tell us that Dad was dying. 3 weeks he could have spent at home. He saw that man and his nurses just about every other day for 6 months. It really pisses me off quite honestly, but I'm trying not to let it bother me so much.

I'd say the best words two people have said to me are, "You'll think of him everyday. Some days those memories will make you cry, some days you'll laugh. But, you'll think of him everyday."