Shell here!

Before Art became sick with cancer, he had a plan to take our daughter out for her thirteenth birthday. He got the idea from a movie we had watched called “Courageous”. He was so fascinated and moved with how the father chose to treat his daughter.

Art loved Jay more than anything in this world. Everyday, he worked hard to be an amazing dad to her. He wanted to be a dad of whom she was proud. That is why he fought so hard for fifteen months with a cruel cancer to stay here. He never wanted to leave us.

He had it all planned out. He was going to take Jay to a fancy restaurant. During the dinner, he was going to put a purity ring on her wedding finger. He had his little speech all planned out. He wanted to show her how a guy must treat her at all times.

He also wanted her to know that he would always be there for her. When the right time came, a man with Art’s approval would replace her purity ring with an engagement ring. Art wanted her to know that he would always be her dad, and he would always be a moment’s notice away. He would give his trust to this man stepping up to be her husband one day, and he better take amazing care of Art’s baby girl.

One year after his devastating diagnosis, September 2014, Art broke down crying in my arms. We were alone watching a movie. Art was recovering from his life-saving surgery that was a failure. The twenty-four-hour surgery that was supposed to save his life lasted only an hour. They opened him up and saw that the cancer was everywhere. September 11, 2014 was a devastating day for our family. Art was not going to get better; he only had months to live.

I never, in the twenty-eight years we were together, saw Art cry. This day was so profound, and I remember my heart breaking for us.

He laid his head in my lap and sobbed. He cried out saying to me that he never wanted this to happen! He cried out saying that he truly believed the surgery would save him. He cried out saying that he was crushed to his core, because he wanted to be here to watch Jay grow up. He cried out asking me how he was supposed to say goodbye to our baby girl.

I just held him close and started crying with him. I said to him that I don’t know how; none of this was fair, and we love him so much. I told him he was our hero. I told him that when the time comes, we will never forget him. We will love him forever.

He cried out saying he wasn’t ready to die. He wanted to grow old with me and to see our grand babies and travel together. We both just sat in our home in silence, with the weight of hopelessness, tragedy, sorrow and pain holding us down on the couch, clinging to each other in desperation and fear. Hoping our love was enough to survive all of this, because that is all we had left.

As time went on and Art became sicker, we knew the battle with cancer was coming to end. We were still fighting, hoping and wishing a miracle would happen, but no miracle came.

Each day, we both knew the dreaded day of saying goodbye here on earth was nearing closer. Each day we stared into each other’s eyes watching one another cry, knowing our time was almost up.

When Art became bed ridden on hospice, he asked me to go get Jay’s purity ring. I went to the jewelry store and we FaceTimed together as he picked out a ring for our daughter.

One evening before Jay’s twelfth birthday, he put the ring he had chosen on her wedding finger. By this time, his voice was getting raspy and it was becoming difficult to speak. He was jaundice, tired and weak. You can see the jaundice in the photo. But he did it!

He did it for his baby girl because it was so important to him. It took every ounce of strength he had to explain to Jay his hopes and dreams for her. He explained how a man should treat her. He explained how, even though he wouldn’t be here physically, he would always be by her side watching over her. It was one of the most beautiful and heart-wrenching moments I have ever witnessed.

Jay was still living in denial and hoping her dad would recover. I don’t know if she soaked it all in. She was at the point of our journey where she started to check out and hide in her room. After Art spoke to her, she kissed him and went back to her room.

I laid down on the hospice bed next to Art and he grabbed my hand as tears flowed down his face. He told me that it was agonizing to know he was dying, and he wouldn’t be here to raise her. We both just laid there, holding hands and crying together, knowing that this was never how we wanted our journey to end.

A year after Art died, Jay wore her ring religiously. She never took it off. Not for anything! One day we went and had manicures done for a special girl day. I looked at Jay’s hand and noticed her finger had a cut where the ring sat. I asked her about it. She explained to me that the ring cuts her all the time, but she didn’t want to do anything about it because it was one of the last things her dad gave her.

The ring Art chose was a cross. The top of the cross would cut into her knuckle. She was persistent in not taking off the ring. As her mother, I had to find a way to fix this because she could not go around with her finger cut up all the time.

Then I remembered. Art was working on a special gift for our twentieth wedding anniversary. He was buying me a new wedding set, and had planned on taking us on a cruise and renewing our wedding vows. The set he chose came with three different rings, and then they would all be sealed together. He said the three symbolized our family of three.

He had two of the rings and was getting ready to start saving up for the third. Then he got sick, and his health and fighting cancer were more important. But I had the two rings in our jewelry box.

I presented the two rings to Jay. I told her that her father would have never wanted her to wear a ring that would cut her. I showed her the two rings he had already bought for me. I asked her if she would be willing to wear one of the rings, and I would wear the other ring. I told her we would safely put the cross ring away where she will always have it, and that it was okay. Her dad would not mind. In fact, if he was alive, he would have already bought her another ring because he would have never wanted her to be hurt from that ring.

I explained that by us wearing the two rings, we would be connected to Art as a family of three. I was still wearing my gold band, and I had Art’s gold band on a chain around my neck. I also had put my actual wedding ring away with Art’s wedding set in the jewelry box for Jay. I liked wearing the gold band because it was small and simple. I didn’t want to my wear my wedding set, and I wasn’t ready to not wear a ring on my wedding finger yet.

Jay said yes, and she loved the idea. We went to a jeweler and had the ring sized for her. I also inquired about taking Art and I’s gold bands and having them melted into a heart so I could wear it as a necklace. I remember the jeweler and his wife were so nice, and they both had tears in their eyes as we explained what we wanted done.

When the rings were ready, it was such a pivotal day for us. We had moments of questioning if Art would be okay with what we did. Of course we found a penny that day! This day also symbolized that he was really gone, and we were making decisions without him. It was the start of us rebuilding our lives.

We picked up the rings and there wasn’t a dry eye in the jewelry shop. The jeweler and his wife gave us the biggest hugs and wished us a beautiful life. We kept in touch with them, because that is what Jay and I do. We have made so many new friends along our new journey without Art.

Now as we make decisions without him, we look at our fingers and we are reminded even though he is no longer here, we are still a family of three forever bonded by the circle of love. ❤️

Jay here!

It breaks my heart to tell you that I do not remember my dad’s speech to me.

I can clearly picture sitting in front of my dad, thinking how weird it was he had a bed in our living room. I knew he was giving me something important. I felt loved. I tried to understand what he was saying, but it was difficult to decipher with his raspy voice struggling to speak. I listened to his gravely voice; felt his bony, cold, yellow hand hold mine, and I still thought he was going to be okay.

I want to remember, I really do. I heard him say it had to do with the movie Courageous, and that he was supposed to do this on my thirteenth birthday.

Okay, I thought. Then I’ll hear this again when I’m thirteen and we do the Courageous thing.

I listened to him to the best of my abilities, but I was checked out of the whole situation. I remember so little, it’s like that portion of my life is just gone. I suppose ages eleven through twelve actually are gone, since watching your father die from cancer isn’t the normal tween life.

I didn’t believe he was actually dying until I watched him take his last breath. Even then, I still waited for the exhale that never came.

I spent a month just trying to process the fact he was really gone. I only got to hear the Courageous speech once, and I missed it. Dad only put this ring on my finger once, and I don’t remember every detail of how it happened.

I couldn’t take the ring off. One of the last things my dad wanted to do before he died was put this ring on my finger and give me his speech. I don’t remember the speech; I can’t recall the moment perfectly. It felt like I’d disrespected him or let him down. I only got this once, and I was too busy pretending everything was normal.

The least I could do to make up for this was to wear the ring. If I took it off, he could never put it back on my finger again.  

The cross got caught on my dresses and skirts. It pulled my hair in the shower. It got caught everything from necklaces to counter tops, and punctured my skin every time. My knuckle was red, raw and irritated; but I didn’t care. My dad put this ring on me, and I took that for granted. Never again.

I would wear this ring until my finger fell off. So what, if it hurt? Nothing could compare to the pain in my heart, knowing my dad was here and I took him for granted. No physical pain could make up for not taking my dad’s speech as seriously as I should have. A bleeding knuckle was worth wearing the ring my father put on my finger, because he could never do that again. I would wear this ring until the day I died.

Or, you know, a replacement ring from my mom works too.

She saw how bad my hand was getting and sat me down. She told me that dad had a set of rings he was working on. It was going to be a set of three, but he only bought two before he died. He picked them out, so they’re still rings from my dad. She showed the bands to me, and they were beautiful; simple and elegant, with a little sparkle. Most importantly, there were no sharp edges.

She told me that my dad would never want me to wear a ring that was hurting me. I’m pretty sure I cried; I’m even trying not to cry while typing this. I told her how I felt about the ring. I think she was either trying not to cry, or we ended up crying together. This jewelry became very emotional; I’m sure the ring would have cried too if it could’ve.

Today, I wear the beautiful ring my mom gave me, and my hand doesn’t bleed!

My mom said that since it was supposed to be a set of three, it’s like the rings are connecting all of us. My mom and I’s rings are the same, so they connect the two of us. Then, my dad is missing, just like the third ring.

He and the ring may not physically be here, but the intent and love remains the same.

Aloha and gratitude,

Jay and Shell