papa – Tina Sicre

It’s come full circle for me, Monday, September 2nd, being the one year anniversary of my father’s passing. I put my music and writing projects on hold a little over a year ago due to his declining health. Managing his healthcare turned out to be a full-time job, and even though I was blessed to share the challenge with my two siblings, it was something I needed to give as much of my head and heart to (while also being present to my husband, child, and day job). As much of a Wonder Woman I’d like to imagine I could be, there’s only so much any of us can do in a day.

Then there’s heartbreak: I had to put the music, the writing, the dreaming aside, for a while. I admit, I was disappointed and frustrated at the time. But, no regrets. My dad, I mean, he was pretty awesome. Maybe not perfect, but awesome none-the-less. All around cool guy, and while we had our rough years, in the end, we were like this.

He lived with my husband, my son and me for that last year. Wow, that was a challenge! But I am so grateful my son had time with his Papa Dodie. Selfishly, I’m just glad for every moment I had with him too. I don’t care how grown up or mature you get, a girl still needs her daddy. Every morning when I walked out the door to work, he’d say, with this look of adoration and sincere amazement, “You look GORGEOUS.”

And here’s the thing: I never questioned that he believed it.

How many times in our life do we hear that? I heard it everyday for that last year. And I miss it now.

Like I said, awesome.

After his passing, it took time for me to be present to my music and writing projects, open to the creative spirit. Gratefully, experience has taught me that even the creative spirit needs rest at times – time to process and heal before it can give its best. Just like any other part of the body.

I waited, sometimes patiently, others not. (That’s the anxious, anal, task-master bitty in me that has to get things done!) And now, I am proud to share that the music is done. On the one year anniversary of my father’s death, it is finished. I know he had something to do with it. Life just works that way, doesn’t it?

First, I want to say thank you for all of the wonderful birthday wishes back on August 18th. My lack of acknowledgment until now is not a sign of me being unappreciative of your sentiments – because I truly do appreciate your thoughts and well wishes. The fact is that I have been out of sync over the past few weeks.

Many of you know that for the past couple of years, my dad has been battling kidney cancer. Last year, he moved in with my husband, son and me, and up until a few weeks ago, he was doing well enough. But then he changed. Whether it be his body had hit the tipping point where the drugs just didn’t work any more, or somewhere in his subconscious, he said, “I’m done,” I’ll never really be sure.

In my heart, I’d like to think it was the latter. I’d like it to have been his choice. One last kick in cancer’s face, where he didn’t let it get the best of him. Instead, he said, “Cancer, you don’t own me. I do. You can have this rickety old body, I’m done with it. I’ve got a lot waiting for me in the next life, and quite frankly, I’ve done all that I can to be the best person I could in this one.”

You see, my dad did do the best he could. I really came to see that as I watched him in these last days – his last with us. It’s not anything he said or did to convince me. Rather, it’s all the stories of his life relayed to my siblings and me by his friends and family, that stand as proof of his existing each day giving his best.

It amazes me, the number of people who reached out to visit my dad, and those who have called or sent their memories via email or letter. Cousins, in-laws who were more like siblings, best friends from his high school, Airborne, and back-packing days. People who had journeyed with him, shared meals, and mostly laughter. Ladies – of course the lovely ladies (he was a good looking guy after all, not to mention that charm). And even his high school baseball coach who told us after all of his years of coaching and the hundreds of kids he’d worked with, that my dad was “one of the good ones.”

What a tribute to this person who did nothing more than his best and expected nothing less from his children. I remember all he and my mom ever asked of us kids was to “do your best.” It was that simple. No expectations of straight A’s or high-paying jobs, fancy cars and big houses. (Heck, he never even pressured me to have kids – well, sort of.) Just a clear standard to guide us, a standard as unique and personal as we each are.

As I watched the remainder of my father’s life here pass, I began to truly understand and appreciate this value. Do your best – it is truly all that you can do.

So, I’ve been doing my best over the past few weeks, which have been difficult to put it lightly. I realized that my focus had to be on ushering my father gracefully from this life to the next and being present to my family as we support each other through this process.

My apology that this means I will not be performing for you this coming Sat., (Sept. 8th) at SOhO. It was a tough decision to make, because I kept hearing that old line, “The show must go on,” in the back of my head. But for me, I know in my heart that a show at this time, it just wouldn’t be my best. And well, if I’m not giving it my best, then I’m cheating both you and me. So, I’m going to have to let this one go until I can be truly present to performing for you.

Until then, my family and I sincerely thank you for your support, thoughts, and prayers.

All my best,

Tina Sicre

Some of my memories for you…