Hello Papaya Girl

Lets get one thing straight, I don't actually like papayas. However, if you go through my early school work, you might find a piece of creative writing written by a 7 or 8 year old me that would state otherwise. My mom has written evidence that states I like papayas. I don't remember the exact wording, but  in that piece of creative writing assignment, I wrote about how much I love eating papayas and how much my family loves eating papayas. I swear, I've never liked eating papayas. I still don't like papayas. Not even the delicious Maui papayas we came across during a Hawaiian vacation 2 years ago.

Why have I decided to name this blog, "Hello Papaya Girl?" My dad loved papayas. He likes it fresh, he likes it in his soup, he simply loves the smell of them.

I am not a writer. I am a reader. I don't like papayas. My dad loved papayas. And I love my dad. I am the quintessential 'daddy's little girl' and I recently lost him to secondary liver cancer. To be exact, I lost him exactly 5 weeks and 1 day ago.

I wanted an outlet to express my grief, to share my daddy's legacy and to help me move forward. So here I am . . . Hello Papaya Girl!

I am one of those lucky ones that had never truly experienced deep grief, until the day my dad was diagnosed with cancer and was only given 3-6 months to live. He lived for 5 weeks. I grieved every day during those 5 weeks, while still taking care of him. I grieved after he passed and I am still grieving now. I never thought I would have to read, "In Loving Memory," followed by my dad's name.

Grieving is a new experience for me. I have gone through losing my grandparents, but the loss is not quite the same as losing one of your own parent. To me, he wasn't 'just' a parent, he was my daddy. He was the man I would follow everywhere he went, when I was a little girl. If he was going to McDonald's with his friends on a Friday night to hang out, I was there. Those were one of the best Friday nights memories I have. I would get unlimited pop from the self-serve dispenser; my dad's friends would always have candies for me; and my daddy would always always always buy me an apple pie or if I was a good girl that week I would get a box of McDonaldland cookies.

I was spoiled rotten by my daddy. He would drive me to school when I couldn't wake up early enough to get there in time, which happened quite frequently. He bought me my first car (a used one) when I turned 18, got my driver license and was accepted into university. He would wake up early during the Winter months so he could scrape my windows and warm up my car every school day during the first year of my University life so I could get to my 8:30am psychology class on time. I didn't know how to pump my own gas until I was 20 because my daddy always made sure the car was filled. Even after I moved out and started a family of my own, he would still call regularly around 10-10:30 in the morning asking how I was, how my boys were and if we'll be coming home for dinner this week. I miss those calls. I miss his voice. I miss hearing the special nickname he had for me.

My dad had taught me so much. He taught me how to love: know your worth and never settle for anything less. He taught me the golden rule: treat others how you would like to be treated. He taught me how to approach life: work hard and the rewards will come. He taught me gizzards can be yummy if prepared correctly. Chicken feet are always yummy no matter how they are prepared.

I am beyond lucky to have had him as my dad. I am lucky that he had the chance to meet his 2 beautiful grandsons and declare which grandson is his absolute favourite (although I know he truly loved the both of them equally.) I am also very fortunate to have married someone my dad not only approved of, but truly loved him as one of his own.

I love you so so much, daddy. I miss you every single day. I can't wait to share with the world what an incredible man you were and how your legacy is living on through me and your grandsons.

My daddy's 75th birthday family photo