Letter to Stacia from her father
Letter to Stacia
I Remember You, God is Watching Us
Memorial Tribute to Stacia Jennifer Hunter
In loving memory by George Hunter, May 29, 2000
Hello baby....
a year ago tonight, you lay in a coma....
waiting to die, for your body to expire.
Two days earlier, I had given you a dilantin without
knowing you could not swallow anymore.....
Im sorry. It took me and mom 4 hours to suction it out,
me laying behind you with your body propped up against
my chest, patting you on the back, mom working the
suction machine......we got it.
I will never forget, feeling the peace that came over you...
man, was I relieved. You know Stace, I held you many times
in my life....but, never like that....knowing the end would come
on the Full Moon, on 5/29. A blue moon.
The second full moon of May.
I remember October 3rd, 1972, when you were born at 4:30pm
after a 30-hour labor......mom said, dont leave, just sit there...
and shut up, be quiet. haha........you were big Stace.you were big.
9 pounds. You popped out, and there you were. Pink....beautiful.
Later, you would unknowingly earn your nickname......Tootsaburger.
You loved burgers. You loved burgers.
We were poor then, and our big night out was on Fridays, when we
would take you and Jodi to the Burger Pit. The coloring crayons,
you and Jodi would color.....me and mom would have a beer.
Then, real business.....burgers. And fries. And ketchup.
Like some salad Stace......phooey, you said.
Then Grace became your babysitter. Remember Grace, Stace.
I always thought she was an angel. Still do. In her care, was where
you were first exposed to dance, because all of Grace's daughters
were dancers. One day, mom says to me, we're going to enroll
Stacia in dance....she will be a dancer. Do pageants. Us hippies
thought this was b.s., so your old man was saying, "Whattttt"
But Mom, she was right. She said that dance would help you learn
poise and build character. I was skeptical. Probably thought it
would cut into my football too much......Mom ruled. You danced.
And you loved it. You flourished. You grew. Within a year, you
were as talented as any girl on the floor.
Soon, you were the anchor. A rock. For MaryAnn's Santa Clara Dancers.
Of course, that was after 3 dance schools/teachers.........what a riot.
All the competition and gossip....real life baby, real life...haha.
But you Stace, you baby, you were always above all of it......
in one ear and out the other. What mattered was dancing.
The team , always came first.......everyone knew this about you.
Sure, you wanted to win individually, but the team came first.
At age 11, you had become a full-blown nerd. Beautiful, but a nerd.
Didn't you hate wearing them braces.....I always thought they sucked.
But mom, said, "Thou shalt stand away George, my kids will have
great teeth. Hahaha.....ok, babe, great teeth. Another hippie rule,
falling by the wayside....thou shalt not have braces, not needed...
crooked teeth are just fine.
Soon, I learned one of the great lessons of parenthood........
just shut up, and be a good chauffeur, for Christ's sake.
I learned this from you baby......I learned this from you.
15....and you were unreal......quiet, solid, budding, beautiful,
sweet, innocent (how innocent? smile), not precocious like
your sister, Jodi, hooooo baby, was Jodi precocious or what Stace?
Special. Mom and I had known from the time you were very tiny,
that you were unusual.........special, centered, good-natured.
you willingly gave your toys to other kids to play with.
you were a peacemaker......even when you were little.
a peacemaker. Lets all have a good time. That was your motto.
Everyone fell in love with you. Everyone. When someone wanted
a kid to spend the night, it was you ( the parents) they wanted.
16......been dancing for 11 years..........my beard was long gone
and so was the hippie. So many dance competitions. We weaved our
way through the underworld of dance parents, a dangerous place...hahaha.
I had by now taken to scoring dance competitions......presentation, difficulty,
and the all important.......costume. Jesus Christ, you had some costumes.
I had become quite good, most often picking the top 3 correctly...maybe
not the order....but always the top 3 out of between 15 to 25 girls.
California State Championships........1988, the year that David was born.
Remember Stace? 29 contestants.........a marathon. Then you have to wait
for a full competition in next age group, to get the results.
16 years old.......29 contestants......I added up my scores, always grading
you tougher Stace, well.....almost always. When I was done,
I scanned across my racecard (o, wait a minute, Im not at the track)
and, I flipped. I had you winning by 1 point. I tell Mom, Linda...she won,
she won.....on my scorecard, she won. Mom says, o yeah right.......she
forgot the dance dumbo, in case you weren't watching.....(she did?? o no)....
then I looked back at my card.
....and the 10th runner-up is......that girl......
....and the 9th runner-up is.....this girl....
and so it always goes.......eventually your
child pops up as a runner-up....ahhhh, darn,
well, at least she placed.
and the 1st runner-up is......who was she Lin?
this is a great moment in sports(dance) because
now you are convinced that your kid is going to win.
There are 29 in the field. 10 have been chosen.
You failed to place a few times, not many, but enough.
Mom, doesn't want to believe it, my scorecard says
you must be the winner........
And your 1988 State California Jazz dancing Champion is.......
STACIA HUNTER.....................o sweet God, sweet God...
my baby won, my baby won, my baby won........
one of the cruel truths of these competitions is that
the only ones really going apeshit, are your family,
your teacher and your true friends.........the rest is golf-claps.
Except.......when your father...............is me////////hahahaha
Me, I'm shouting two words............one begins with f......
and the other ends with eh......... f........ing eh.
Staciaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...........you won baby, you won.
Later, the only time in your life, you would pull me aside
alone, and say, "Dad, whatever you do, don't ever, not ever...
embarass me that way again...I heard you all the way backstage.
OK Stace...whatever you say baby....whatever you say.
Then I picked you up, damn....you were big.......16, 110 lbs.......
wow, not a baby anymore, I thought.....but you were 5foot9inches
now...and, man, were you beautiful.........slender, limber, cute,
and yes........sexy. Stacia was no longer a nerd.
You were a star. A shining star. Our girl.
At 19, you would dance competitively for the last time.
The Miss Santa Clara contest, win this....Miss California
contest in San Diego. You finished 1st runner-up and
came out smiling. Mom, Dad...this was my last competition...
mom, said, no problem.......the chauffeur wiped his brow.
Back to 12, (Dear List, I know this is long, I need to express
this, so please bear with me)......12......7am, Shasta Lake....
I rev up the motor of the big houseboat.....rmmmmmm, rrrmmmmmmm.
1984. I had fished until 3am......nada. Not a bite, not a fish....nothing.
Skunked. 2 hours sleep, and we're out of here. All of you were
asleep......so you won't care. I crank up Jimi Hendrix ( a little)....
and churn away....Captain of the Titanic.....as I sped across the
great lake and between them 2 islands......I knew a better place
was just around the corner......just groove on that song George,
3rd rock from the sun......dum, da, dum, dum dum......eowwwwwww...
Hey Stace.........you remember?? hahahaha
The sound effects on the movie Titanic do little justice to what
it really sounds like...........we know. With my cool sunglasses on
and my family sleeping, i zipped betweem them islands......and
the world ended...........Hendrix was drowned out......by the sound
of Big Metal Pontoons grating on Big Giant Rocks.......instead of
Hendrix, I began to hear The Doors Jim Morrison singing...........
"This is the End. The Really End. This is The End.....grating, scraping,
slashing.........terrrible sounds.
Then I looked behind my captains chair.........every dish, plate, bowl
and cup came out of the cupboards........and shattered into a million pieces
on the floor. Mom fell out of bed. Jodi screamed. And you Stace, your
legs went up on the wall, form the quick stoppage of the USS Hunter,
and you flopped out on the floor. Beached. Run Aground........stopped.
I killed the motor.....and smiled at all of you......hahahahaha.........who
was thinking the F-word now?
Do we have a problem? Do we have a problem????
God is watching us.............
not until I was scrambling to find a way to find
a decent wedding song, would I discover this song by Bette.
The houseboat was completely aground.
Spring.......58 degress water....ooooo, chilly.
I dressed, jumped in the lake, let Mom gun the motor
and swing the wheel, while I shoved my puny frame into the back
of that 55 foot houseboat...............skunked again.
I know I need help.....actually I think I may need 2 of them out
with me........and one swinging the wheel. I walked up to the
3 of you, and before the request could even utter from my mouth,
Mom and Jodi disappeared. Gone. If I dont hear the request,
I dont have to jump in that freezing water. Where did they go Stace??
The bathroom...haha......but not you......not you baby......you stood
there in your pajamas......and listened to me say, I need more muscle
on the back.....more muscle.
Then you put some clothes on, jumped into that frigiid lake.....
and helped your old man.........rock that boat off the shoal.
12 years old, you never even flinched.....and that was the 1st
time, I realized how strong you were. Wow.
You saved my ass , Stace.
Whats a couple million shards of ceramic glass on the floor
after your daughter just helped you shove a houseboat off a shoal.
A lot.
High School........15, 16, 17.......talk about late bloomers.
They got your picture next to that word in the dictionary Stace.
Freshman....song-girl. Sophmore, cheerleader. Grades...about 3.15.
Nothing spectaular yet.........except....after getting C's in Algebra,
you came home with an A in Geometry. yeah. an A.......in Geometry.
I KNEW that day.......that you had my ability with numbers. I knew it.
Your mom too.
Romance. High school quarterback (Mark) falls in love with Stacia.....
oh yeahhhhhhhhhhhh. But, after that first flame, and after finishing
with a 3.25 gpa,.............straight A';s in Math the rest of your career,
off you went to college...........Chico State..........the party school.
By then, you had fallen in love with the only man who.........
really knew you and loved you, without any pretense...Eric Vidal.....
and....................unfortunately for Eric........tried to match your
heretofore, unknown, drinking prowess...........apple/tree.....apple/tree......
I love Eric, Stacia. I love him.
So does Mom. so does Jodi.....and David....well......he'll love him too
after he gets a litlle bigger and can flip him on his ass.
Did you know Stacia, that despite you marriage and divorce to Ben
over the first seven months of your illness.....after Ben was gone....
and after Eric had rushed back to be by your side while he knew, he would lose you again.....
that Eric asked me a few weeks before you died, if I would bless him
and you......bless him and you. It was in the living room, up against
the far wall, near the window....Eric, held me, and asked me to bless you...and him!
I said, I said, "Yes....I bless you both...you and Stacia....I bless you."
They say there are seven sacraments.......I know there are more.
God was watching us, God was watching us.........from a distance.
After trying my advice at being an Electrical Engineer....for a year at Chico...
you spoke with mom, and said...hey, Dad....being a gorgeous, blond electrcial
engineer..............is not for me. Mom says I can home.........mom, thank God for Mom.
Always, always, a center of common sense. So, you and I talked....and agreed,
come back to San Jose State, major in Accounting.
In 1995, a year before you would graduate, Eric found a lump in your breast.
In April, 1995, with mom and Jodi by your side.......we would hear that at age 22,
you had been found on the simple removal of a cyst........to have primary breast cancer.
CANCER. No fricking way....yes........fricking way.........breast cancer, age 22.
YOU Said, "give me evertything, get rid of this sucker."
Lumpectomy, radiation, adreamyecin, CSF............no hair within 3 weeks......damn.
Adreamycin. Long, blond hair.......down to your ass..........you let mom and Jodi
cut it off.......and, you..........just said, I got to go to work, and I got to go to school.
No wig...............just a baseball hat. Never missed a day of school, or work.
No big deal.
Tonight, I tell you baby.....that if it were not for your incredible courage and cool,
we would have not made it. By now, unbeknownst to any of us...only known to God......
inside you dwelled the heart of a champion......a lion.....a saint. Jeanne D'Arc Hunter.
A young woman, who would shrug off all pain, and all attacks upon her life and dignity.......
Facing death down, until the bitter end............with enough Grace and Love to save
the whole human race.
By December 1996, you graduated. With Honors.........Jodi, she threw you the
party of a lifetime........us too. Micahel Stange peaked in his life and sang a song
to you about your courage, before a 100 people..........wow......what a high.
Four months later, after headaches and visual disturbances in your field of vision,
we found out you had 2 big brain tumors.......oh sh*t........oh sh*t........f*cking
glioblastoma......................glioblastoma...........ah, you awful fiend.........
.......glioblastoma........
does it really matter what the name of the beast is.....
I suppose not.......but it will to me.
Stacia Jennifer Hunter..............
I never could have imagined such bravery and courage.
Only you, only you Stace.......could have taught me such grace.
You know, your brother, David, he loves you so much........
and he is only 11, going on 12.......he is searching for a
way to fit into all this bs that happened. I ask you on this
Memorial Day, of recognition and Healing.....to be his sword!
You know, your sister Jodi.....she loves you so much.........
she had your name tatooed on her lower back.....to recognize
her loss.......her and Greg.......miss you so much, to validate
her loss........I ask you to blow sweet wind upon her cheek,
and in the grace of that, let her know.......you love her.
You know, your mom, she is dying inside......dying Stace.......
so I beseech you to help me, help mom.....help her overcome
the great loss of you........in all of us. No one, has taken it harder
than mom......thats the way it is, thats the truth. More than
anyone slse, Linda Hunter, adored you more than life itself.
We have been blessed by a million signs Stacia......a million,
but only you can bring, well.....only you and God.....can
bring your mom up from the depths......................
so, on this memorial day of your death, I ask you, my lovely Saint,
my own Jeanne D'Arc, to bless us with your love and understanding Stace.
We are trying so hard.
I love you baby
Dad
God bless you Stacia........o. owo, owo............from a distance.
The Anastassas..........my Saint, in Heaven.
P.S. David and Jodi really need to hear from you
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