Dad.

It's tomorrow. The day I've wanted to avoid since February 8th. Father's Day.

Dad was the kind of man who picked me up from the bus station at 5am, when I was getting in from an overnight from New York. One of the days he did this was on Father's Day, even though he was sick. The one day of the year where he's supposed to be getting the special treatment - and instead he chose to put his daughter first, despite everything else in his life.

I haven't wanted to blog since it happened. I haven't wanted to do anything as passionately as I used to, really. Losing a parent, I've realized over these past few months, is probably the hardest thing in the world. It makes you ache on a daily basis, sometimes many times a day. You feel guilty, that even after all this time, you still want to cry, hide, and be angry. You feel particularly guilty for the people who are extremely close to you, that they on some level, have to go through it as well, since it's something you're still going through. It's been just over four months, and it's still hard going to auditions, going to work, and just getting from one day to the next. 

Since it happened, I've lost a part of myself that I'm worried I won't get back. I feel like I've lost a lot of compassion and patience in general, and that I'm less passionate about doing things I love. I don't try as hard as I used to. I find I have a harder time genuinely listening to others, and my self-esteem has plummeted. I feel like I've lost close friends, not because they don't care, but because they don't know what to say, or how to help.

I want things to go back to normal. But apparently from what I hear, normal then, isn't normal now. And I don't know how to adjust to "normal now" yet. Even after four months. I miss the passionate, driven girl I used to be. And while that girl hasn't gone away completely, I just don't have the same ambition as I did. I want it back so desperately and don't know how to find it again.

I miss my Dad so much. Sometimes I still pick up the phone thinking I'll hear his voice. Sometimes I still expect him to show up when I sing or perform somewhere, with his harmonica around his neck and a fedora on his head. I need to hear him tell me I'm 'Esther "Broadway" Vallins', and how he's so proud of me, his talented daughter. I don't feel that way anymore.

I'm sure this day every year will get a little less difficult as time goes on. But as for tomorrow - I'm not ready.

Musical Theatre Dork Mondays: A different Monday about a special man.

Today's Musical Theatre Dork Monday is a bit different. As per the norm though - there is a song at the end of this post. One that was written for me - by a very special man.

I love my Dad. His name is Michael Vallins. He's one of the most imaginative, generous, loving people you'll ever meet. He's also a very British (lived in the east end of London most of his life. He still sounds like a most genuine cockney), stubborn, and unwavering man.

Dad and I never had a great relationship growing up. I think we were too alike. Like many Dads, he spent much time working. He owned his own business - Steadfast Safety Services. In my parents' separation in 2002, once given space, Dad and I were able to share our passions for music, theatre, and creativity - rather than slam doors on each other. 

Though he had his business, his biggest dream was still set on being an artist. The amount of talents this man has is rather abundant. He loved to create things - though not all his projects were successful; I still remember him trying to make popsicles in an ice cube tray using Marmite and apple butter.

Dad was once a photographer. In fact, he traveled around the world for awhile, and was taken to places like Morocco and various countries in South America to shoot. This shot of his has always been my favourite - and he nearly lost his life taking it! He got away just in time... just from looking at the photo you can tell he was almost turned into lunch.

Among other things, Dad is a guitar player, a singer, an amazing harmonica player, a published poet, and also a jewelry designer! He loved making rings, bracelets, and necklaces out of all kinds of forks and spoons and giving them to his friends. Now I see these pieces everywhere. Dad was making them before they were popular... so I guess that makes him a hipster too. He's also a fantastic writer with a column in Canada Free Press - as well as a songwriter, with a plethora of different pieces, including one great musical.

Now he's sick. Three and a half years ago, Michael was diagnosed with cancer of the esophagus. However, Dad was determined to fight through it and did some pretty amazing things through to the present. One big thing being - he staged his musical that he began writing over 30 years ago. The show, then titled 'Metamorphorically Speakin' (now known as 'My Fair Laddie') is a 'My Fair Lady' story in reverse, set in London in the swingin' sixties. It centers around an upper-class young bloke who wants to be a singer, in the time of the Beatles and the Searchers - and has to learn to be a Cockney. After writing it, showing it to many producers and impresarios, and getting multiple rejections, he put the show away. But upon my graduating Randolph Academy in 2007, Dad wanted there to be opportunity for me, to work doing what I love. So the musical came off the shelf, and with the help of some very dear friends, we staged it (with a pretty killer cast might I add),

played a sold-out run, and received amazing reviews. How many people can say their Dad wrote a musical for them? The experience leading up to the show, and performing the show with Dad will always be one of the most special times in my life. One song in the musical was added just weeks before we went up. A special song written for me, called 'I'm Just a Dad'. A video of the song is at the bottom of this post. It's beautiful.

When more tumors surfaced in his brain last month, we knew unless there was a miracle, it wouldn't be long. The emergency trips to the hospital are increasing. This weekend, my Dad was admitted again. He still hasn't come out. This time, he's also battling severe pneumonia, with no immune system. It's possible he won't be leaving the hospital this time.

I realize I'm blessed. Some people with cancer beat it - but others don't last more than a few months after being diagnosed. I've had three and a half wonderful years with my Dad. 

But right now - in this moment, I have so many questions. The biggest one being, How on earth do you deal with the loss of a parent? How long will it hurt this much? How often am I going to pick up the phone before remembering he won't be on the other end? How often do I have to fake a smile around friends and say I'm grateful? My Dad is dying. I feel lost. I'm so scared.

I prayed for three and a half years he'd be at my wedding to walk me down the aisle, and sing 'I'm Just a Dad' to me at the reception - but I guess somewhere, I know that he's going to a place with no pain, where he'll still be able to look down on me that day.

To be honest, I don't really know how to end this. I want to be hopeful. I want to be there for my family. I want to be brave. But I'm not. I already miss him so much.