A Father's Love

“Daddy, why you lub me?”

Hazel posed this question several times on our most recent string of overnight stays at the hospital, first for chicken pox and then a 24-hour stint to receive her next round of chemo. She says the question with a sly grin on her face and in a tone that hides a half-hearted attempt at laughter. She is teasing in her own way and loves to hear her mother and I try to put into words the true emotions that her question evokes in us.

I have yet been able to eloquently answer her question beyond the words “Because you are perfect, dear.” I stumble through saying it and then have to avert my gaze from her sweet little peach-fuzz covered head lest she see the tears welling up in my eyes. Such a short, simple question stirs emotions and explanations of such complexity, it is difficult to imagine that she could understand my true answer. And yet I hope she does understand, if not today at least someday in the future after all of the horrors of her current situation subsides.

Why do I love you, Hazel? The answer to that question lies deep in my being, rooted in my heart and connected to my soul. It may be a difficult concept to put into words, but today I will try. Hazel, this one is written directly to you, baby-girl:

I love you because you are a blessing; a wonderful gift from God that I cherish and marvel at each day. When you were born, you entered a family of five that didn’t realize we were incomplete. We were all there to witness your first breath and the first people you laid eyes on in this world were your siblings. I caught you as you were born in the very bedroom you now sleep, and your mother provided the first measures of comfort as you lay wide-eyed, taking in all the sights to the sounds you had heard for so many months in her womb. You were the first miracle that your brothers and sister witnessed firsthand, and you forever changed the course of their lives. They protect you fiercely, love you unconditionally, and cannot imagine a world without you.

You have tremendous compassion and are always thinking of others. Your mother and I have searched for ways to weather this storm over the past months and you have always been quick to comfort us, holding our hands as we trembled, caressing our cheeks as we cried. We have been broken, beaten since the day you were diagnosed. We are weary from our worry for you, but even though your body is the one being assaulted, you have always come to our rescue, like a tiny martyred savior delivering a message of serenity from above. You have calmed our hearts and assured us that all will be okay.  

You love life and have fun in any situation. Your laughs have echoed down the hallways of H12, crowding out the heavy silence that blankets the solemn corridors and closed doors. You bring joy to all around you and people beg to be in your presence. You have not once allowed your disease to dampen your spirit, remaining a beacon of light for others in even the darkest of times. Your giggle is infectious, your sense of humor unabashed. I love the crinkle of your nose when you smile, the dimples in your soft pastry-like cheeks, and your deep, heartfelt belly laugh when tickled.

You are strong, courageous, and daring. You fear nothing, back down from no one, and always speak your mind. You have a fire in your belly that begets passion and fuels your sense of adventure. Cancer does not scare you. You march into the hospital as if going to war, and in a sense you are, waging countless waves of battle on something you cannot see or comprehend. You withstand unimaginable pain with barely a whimper, remaining compliant with the throng of doctors, nurses, and specialists that constantly poke and prod you. The treatments you undergo are tough, often depleting you to a state of exhaustion and sickness that parallels that of the actual cancer that started all of this in the first place. It sometimes takes you weeks to recover from a round of chemotherapy, but you slowly, excruciatingly fight your way back to health and continue along the path set before you. I am unlikely to ever see a display of strength so great in the remainder of my lifetime.

You are a purposeful fighter with a love of family that is innate to your being. Tears stream down your face as your own parents deliver medications that will bring an onslaught of dismal side effects, yet you never complain, never fight back, never tell us to stop. You believe in us, having faith that we would never do anything that was meant to harm you. Even when you are weak, you beg to play with your siblings, drawing strength from their presence and vibrancy from their laughter. The best days of your life right now are when all of your “people” are together under one roof, living, laughing, and loving together as one.

Hazel, you are incredibly special and unbelievably blessed. You are the culmination of all things good in my life and forever have stolen my heart. I love you so much more than words can possibly describe and will spend the rest of my life working to make yours better.

My dearest Hazel, I will answer your inquiry with my own question, for it is not “Why do I love you?” but instead “How could I not love you?”

“For I wrote you out of great distress and anguish of heart and with many tears, not to grieve you but to let you know the depth of my love for you.” – 2 Corinthians 2:4