The beginning of an end.

It was a hot summer day with flowers in full bloom and trees swaying side to side in the wind. My mother was in the kitchen preparing my family a delicious meal when my father called out to me.
“Liliana let’s go for a ride!”
It was our ritual to ride our 4-wheeler up to the paintball field we lived on and search for rocks for my mom.  I heard the growl of the engine start and I ran out the front door to him. He was a tall man with curly brown hair and a thick mustache. He smiled at me as my eyes met his. I was in preschool and around the age of 4 when it all started to go downhill.
“I’m ready daddy!” I said eagerly.
My dad lifted me up and plopped me in front of him. His big arms wrapped around me and we started moving. I snuck my hand out from under his arm and waved goodbye to my Mom.
“Bye Mommy!” I said waving my tiny hand in the air.
It was a steep ride up the hills of my backyard, rocks and sticks covered the path but, the 4-wheeler got through it all. My curly hair was blowing in the wind and I was so excited to find pretty rocks for my mom. As we reached the top of the last hill we drove through a curtain which led us into the paintball arena. The curtain pulled at my face and made my hair go frizzy, but my dad and I were still grinning.
The 4-wheeler trudged through mud and rammed over boulders. I sunk into my dad’s warm chest as we went uphill. When we finally stopped my dad put me down on the ground and I began to look for the perfect rock like always. When I found one I called out to my dad that this rock was indeed the one, and he came. He grabbed the hammer and I stood back eager to watch him cut the crystal into little pieces. Once he finished I gathered all the little rocks from the stone and put it in the basket of the 4-wheeler. Then my dad picked me back up on the 4-wheeler and I once again sunk into the safety of his arms.
We rode back down over boulders and bridges and through streams and finally back through the curtain. My dad hopped off the 4-wheeler and began to clean up some sticks around the paintball field preparing for the weekend. When he finished and started walking back to the 4-wheeler I noticed him grab his neck in pain..
“What’s wrong Daddy?” I said.
“Nothing baby, everything is fine.” He reassured me, although he didn’t mean it.
That was just the beginning of his neck pain. Days passed and we gave my mom the rocks, and she pretended to love them even though they were just ordinary crystals. Months went by and my father’s pain only worsened. Then came the months of doctor visits. Neither of my parents told me that my Dad had cancer, but even my 4 year old mind could tell.
My dad was a strong man, he always protected me, told great bedtime stories, and played with me a lot. But lately he had become weaker, and couldn’t play with me anymore. I knew he was not feeling well so I made sure not to bother him.
I became older as the years passed but my dad became more ill. It wasn’t until the first grade when he began to feel better. He became less fragile and started to smile more, I was optimistic for the first time that he would get better. A couple months passed and he was told that he was cancer free. Once he heard the news he came home, picked me up and spun me around in a circle. I remember how happy we were, although I did not know it would not last long.
The cancer came back more rapidly and aggressive this time. It started in his throat like before, and continued to spread through his bones. I was 8 years old.
I used to have fun playing games with the nurses that came to my house to take care of my dad. When my dad would sleep we would play board games and talk. It was the only time other than at school where I was not worried about anything.
The last night we had together approached, and my family gathered around my dad’s bed. I did not know what was about to happen but my family did, and they sent me off to go with my cousins for the night.  Before I left I said my final goodbyes to him.
“Goodbye Daddy, I’ll see you later” I said as I hugged him and went out the door.
That was the last I ever saw of my dad, and those were the last words I spoke to him.
No more bedtime stories, no more 4-wheeler rides, and no more hugs. My Daddy was gone, but at least he is not in pain. I loved every moment I had with him, if only I could have had more.