I was taught most of the fundamentals about life by my Father and therefore learned to think like a boy. It certainly has served me well in many aspects, however I believe I learned to copy the social behavior of men and never really got to know how to appreciate the intrigue of being a woman. I spent most of my free time with my Dad at sports clubs and pubs and was able to interact with people much older than myself — another thing that has stood me in good stead.
I was never one for dressing up and going out, I preferred to hit the social scene right after work and chat with the guys. I normally left when I knew I’d had enough or the place was full of the glamor girls. Little did I know what I was missing by not being part of a sisterhood, which would have taught me the social lessons that I needed, and I would have learned to appreciate myself as a girl.
Several years ago, my Mom called me to come home as Dad was not in good health. I was not nervous or scared as my Dad had suffered many stokes before and was in a wheelchair at that point. He was a hell of a fighter and I knew he would pull through. When I arrived there I felt the panic racing through my body as he was yellow and was in a coma. The neighbor told him: “Vic, Karen is here” – no response. I lay next to him, telling him: “Daddy, I am here”. He heard none of this, no reaction at all. I thought: This time he is not coming back. That’s when I started to get scared.
The paramedics rushed him to St. Georges and they put him into a semi-private room. And so we started to prepare to lose this man who we did not want to let go of. The doctors had us agree to a “Do Not Resuscitate” order, which felt like we were murdering him. Yet he rallied in St. George’s as his caregivers provided excellent care and I was there for at least 10 hours a day. In the end, he had to go to a step-down facility to build his strength before he could go home. He was very unstable and scared there, and by then my Mom had indicated she could not cope with night and day nurses. We booked him into Echo Foundation and once again the carers fell in love with him and provided wonderful attention. He accepted this was where he would live until his death with dignity, and I took four months away from my business to be with him as much as possible. I had to go to shops and buy nappies and baby toiletries that keep him clean and comfortable. Biscuits were eaten every afternoon and were shared with all the others too. I still cannot walk past the baby aisle in a supermarket that has drinking cups without a lump in my throat.
I had the opportunity to feed, clean and change him for these four months. It was hard to do and to see the debilitation but he was my dad. The man that I loved more that life itself. I lay on his bed with him for hours every day and we talked. Me, with words and him with growls and signs or nods. We talked through things that we had never discussed before and each let go of regrets and guilt. I kept telling him that I would be OK without him and that he could go peacefully. Nothing else existed for me in those months, other than making sure that he was comfortable and that he was not scared. Finally he was ready to leave this earth and I had known that it would be that morning — I just knew! I took my time finishing my tea as I did not want to see the last breath as he died. The nurse saw my car coming and she told him: Karen’s here. He sighed and passed away. This was on the 28th of October, 2009.
Everything was numb and suddenly we had to do the funeral planning and had the funeral two days later. I gave a eulogy and remember very little of the funeral and then went home to sleep. In the past, I would have gone straight to the pub to be with people and to have drinks to numb the pain. I had plenty of time to rethink my life and the awesome bond I had with my dad. He had not wanted me to fall apart when he died, which is what a lot of people thought would happen. He hung on long enough to see my sister and for me to promise him that I would put other things and people into higher priority places. I made that commitment to him the day before he died.
A month after his death, my husband, Kevin, realized I was no longer interested in going to the pub as often. He felt I had changed and was in danger of becoming boring. I asked him what he really wanted from me. He said, “I want you to love me the way you loved your Dad”. I thought to myself “that’s not going to happen”.
A few weeks later, I woke up after a night out and said that I was very bored with our social life and would be taking time out. Kevin said he felt the same way.
And so the “Journey to Victory” started. On the 23rd of June, 2010, we chose to live differently and to live for each other. What an amazing journey it has been! In addition to the financial rewards bringing us security, we have fallen in love with each other bigger and better than before. There are no power struggles in our relationships. We talk, communicate and negotiate on important issues. We have a common family dream and vision, which we are attaining at a speed of knots. We are attracting like-minded people who delight in our love and success. This all generates more for all in our circle.
I feel as if I have learned to love Kevin so much more and a lot of the pain of losing Dad is gone as I put those emotions into a place of positivity. I have developed a strong marriage where we do lots of laughing and loving. I have a strong relationship with my Mom too, which is a new thing. This has also brought great rewards for both of us.
So, I lost a father. I gained a husband who is my greatest lover and friend; I gained a mother who is a friend too; and I have gained many friends who delight in my happiness.
So this has been part of my Journey to Victory, named for my father, Victor George Reich.
Karen Kelly is the owner of Xtreme Learning Academy of Port Elizabeth, South Africa. She is a qualified Emotional Intelligence Trainer and Coach, and has been a self-employed entrepreneur since 1994.
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