About two months ago my dog, Cody was diagnosed with lymphoma cancer. He woke up one Saturday morning with a tennis ball-sized tumor in his neck. I took him to the vet only to find out that there were tumors throughout his body, and it was just matter of time before he would be in pain. At first Cody responded well to the medication. The tumors shrunk in size, and he seemed normal. Then two weeks ago, the tumors came back and his health declined more everyday. He had a difficult time breathing and could not climb the steps or jump into my arms. Cody loved to jump, so I am sure his heart was broken because he could not muster the energy to do so.

Cody was a great dog, companion, and friend – as any dog is. But Cody was special because he was the dog we got when my dad was still alive. He was the dog that was there to comfort my mom (and me) when my dad died. I remember the day we picked up Cody and his sister. Dad, mom, my two nieces (Amie and Sarah), and I went to pick Cody and his sister up at a dog show two hours away. It wasn’t five minutes after we got them in the car that Cody took a big ol’ dump in the car (luckily he was in a cage). So we pulled over at the nearest gas station, all of us fleeing the car to escape the smell. Of course the responsibility of cleaning up the first poop by my dog fell on me. I would often use this as a reason not to pick up poop later, but it rarely worked. So after the smell had dissipated, we hopped back in the car and continued on our way back to Cincinnati.

This past Monday I had to do one of the most difficult things I have ever done in my life. I had to take Cody to the vet to be put to sleep. It’s hard going somewhere where you know the outcome is not going to be good. Once I arrived, I carried Cody into the vet and as I walked in a lady commented on how cute he was. I forced a smile and continued to walk into the room where Cody was going to be put to sleep. The vet came in and asked if I wanted to stay in the room. I chose to stay only because I did not want Cody’s last thought to be that I was going to come back into the room to get him. The vet told me that it would happen fast, but I had no idea just how fast it would happen once the vet injected him. He looked up at me one last time…I almost lost it, but somehow managed to hold it together. I held his head in my hands and, just like that, my dog, Cody was gone. His head went lifeless in my hands. I laid his head peacefully on the table, petted him one last time, and walked out the door.

This was one of those times in a man’s life when it’s okay to cry. I could not hold back anymore, and as soon as I got in my car the flood gates opened.

It’s been a rough week. I still think I hear Cody walking on the floor above or barking at the postman. I think of him the most when I would have been taking him out for a walk, feeding him, and chasing him around the house. He loved to play. He was a great dog, a cheerful dog always happy to see you when you walked in the door and sad to see you leave.

Cody was a great companion and definitely man’s best friend. He will truly be missed.

The following pictures are from Cody’s last night with us.

This is how it all began… My Mom was 13 when she met my Dad. Sure enough they fell in love and soon this happened….

My Dad loved baseball… this is him when he played for Colerain High School. He was drafted to the farm team for the Reds but did not go cause he would be traveling and would have been away from his family.

My Dad was in the Coast Guard. I believe his job was a fire fighter. He would tell me stories when I was a kid. One story I remember is when they got in trouble, as a punishment they would have to do push ups while holding their rifles and on gravel.

After they were married for awhile this happened…

My sister was born.

Chrissie in her senior year at high school.

Then sometime later…

My brother was born.

Rob in his senior of high school.

And I guess they saved the best for last…

I was born… actually I was an “oops” baby, so I was not planned like my brother and sister were.

My Dad holding me shortly after I was born.

My senior year.

My Dad loved his family, but he also loved his Corvette… I am not sure what year it was but it was a sting ray with a split window.

He also loved to play golf… I miss playing golf with him and his coaching out on the course.

At Montgomery Inn Boathouse and we met Boomer Esiason. I am not sure why I wore pants like that… I guess they were popular in the 80′s.

One of my favorite pics of my Dad and I carving pumpkins.

]]> http://www.amongtherealm.com/memory-lane/feed/ 4 http://www.amongtherealm.com/living-life-to-the-fullest/ http://www.amongtherealm.com/living-life-to-the-fullest/#comments Sat, 06 Mar 2010 07:34:24 +0000 Andrew http://amongtherealm.com/?p=659 What does it mean to live life to the fullest? This is a question I have been asking myself a lot lately. Often we think of living life to the fullest means being able to buy whatever and whenever we want. What if living life to fullest means giving up some of those possessions to help sponsor a child in another country. What if it means giving up a week of vacation to go on a mission trip.

I will admit I am skeptical of some of these programs. Ryan and Allison are over in Kenya on a mission trip with Compassion International, and after reading his blog posts with his honest look at the company and the impact they are making in kids lives, I am sold on wanting to sponsor a child.

So follow Ryan @ thisisreverb for a honest and touching look at their time spent in Kenya. My friend Kelly (who by the way is an awesome photographer, check her stuff out @ daphnephotostudio.com) posted a similar post earlier about these same feelings. Read her post titled, feeling guilty for having a good life. A lot of the same emotions she is feeling is also what I am feeling at this point in my life.

I am blessed to have great friends and I love it when I can relate to my friends because of the emotions they feel about a certain topic. I know this is what life is about… living life with each other and sharing awesome experiences with each other.

Then it happened…the flood gates opened up. I lost it. I cried and I cried some more. I bawled like a baby. I miss my Dad. I am angry that you are not here to share life with me. I am angry that you will not see me graduate from college (I will be the first Hughes male to do so). I am angry that will you not see me get married and be a grandpa to my kids. I am angry I can’t play golf with you anymore. I am angry at myself for not playing golf with you as much as I could when you were here. I know its not your fault but I am still angry. I thought I had these things called emotions under control. I am writing this through the tears.

Then it dawned on me… I am not in control, God is. God knows my emotions and he knew I needed to cry for whatever reason. God is teaching and loving me a lot lately. Not that His love was not always there, its that my heart was not open to receive it.

Despite all these angry feelings I am happy that my Dad is with God and Jesus. I hope he is giving Jesus a run for his money in a round of golf (I don’t even know if there are golf courses in heaven, but if there is my Dad is playing). I know this is probably not biblical but I don’t care.

I am happy God is urging me to go on a Honduras trip at the end of April. I am scared and excited all at once. I am trusting God to help me raise the money and keep us all safe.

I am happy I am part of a Church with genuine people who want to live life to the fullest. I am happy I will get to know more of them on this trip to Honduras.

Wow… I just gave all the people who read this blog a glimpse into my life that I am not comfortable sharing. This was not a post to gain pity from anyone. I have kept my feelings bottled up inside for a long time and I needed to confess them.

I leave you with this journal entry I wrote shortly after my Dad had passed:

The phone call still rings in my ears. It probably always will. Before we left the hospital they said, “no news is good news”. Then the call came around 5:00 in the morning. I knew before I even picked it up that my dad was not going to make it. I don’t know how I stayed strong. Between my mom’s cries and words I could not understand because she was so shaken by the news. The streets were lonely much like my life was going to be without my dad. I felt like I was in a dream world. The lonely empty streets beckoning me to go farther to hear news I did not want to hear.

We arrived at the hospital that was also empty besides the people working on my dad. We walked down the hallway and I heard them working on my dad. The machines were going crazy and the nurses were running back and forth. The surgeon at this point was pumping my dad’s heart with his hand. I had to pull my mom back from seeing my dad. This day I will never forget. It will be etched in memory as one of the worst days I had to experience.

Amongst all of this I wonder how I stayed so strong. Of course I cried and shed my fare amount of tears. But I had to ask my self am I normal cause I don’t feel anything about what happened? I did not cry all day at the funeral home. I guess I was at a peace. A peace only God can bring. I knew my dad was alive today as he’s ever been. He is where we all as Christians wish to be. His life on earth has ended but his life continues on in a much better place. This is my desire to be where he is. Not only to see my dad again but to be with God and Jesus.

I was up at 4 am this morning… I have a hard time sleeping. I was doing some blog rounds when I came across this post on thisisreverb titled 50,000 pairs in 50 days

So without thinking I donated. If I would have thought about it I would not have done it. I am not saying don’t research who you donate to. I have heard of them before so I knew about them already. The company is called soles 4 souls.