Paul Yvel Menelas

For those who may not know me, I am Myvela, and I am proud to say that I am my father’s daughter.

When I think about my dad, I don’t only think about him as my father, I think about him as my best friend. He was the person I could always laugh with, argue with, drive around with, and truly be myself around. I’ve always been more of a quiet person, but with him, I never felt like I had to hide who I was. Even though we fought sometimes and went back and forth like every parent and child would, at the end of the day he was still my dad, and I loved him more than words could ever explain. And honestly, as much as I hate to admit it, he was usually right during those arguments.

The moment I walked into the hospital room, everything changed. The sight of the hospital bed hit me before I even saw him, and suddenly everything felt too real. My father was never an actual soldier, but to me, he was one. He was strong, protective, and always the person I depended on no matter what. I never saw weakness in him. I was always daddy’s little girl, so seeing that strong man — my soldier — finally lower his guard was something I was never prepared for.

Seeing him so weak didn’t feel real to me. It felt like a nightmare I kept hoping I would wake up from. The first time he got sick was hard, but his second battle with pancreatic cancer changed everything. This time, I could feel the difference. He was tired. Watching someone you love slowly fade away is one of the most painful things a person can experience. He stopped eating, stopped talking as much, and slowly stopped doing the little things we used to do together all the time.

There were so many moments where I didn’t know what to say. I tried to act normal and pretend I was okay, but truthfully, I wasn’t. And somehow, even while he was suffering, I could still see him trying to stay strong for me.

As time went on, I realized how many moments I had taken for granted. The conversations, the movie nights, the jokes, the random drives, all the simple moments that once felt ordinary suddenly became priceless. During those months while my dad was sick, I shut everyone out. I stopped caring about school, about plans, about almost everything. Because how do you explain to someone that you are losing the most important person in your life? People can tell you they understand, but unless they’ve lived through that kind of pain, they truly don’t. My dad taught me that strength is not pretending you aren’t hurting. Strength is facing the pain, carrying it, and continuing to move forward anyway. Even during the darkest moments of my life, I realized I was never truly alone, and that changed me forever.

Dad, thank you for being my protector, my safe place, my best friend, and the person I could always count on. Thank you for every lesson, every laugh, every argument, and every memory we shared together. Those memories will stay with me for the rest of my life.

No matter how much time passes, I will always be daddy’s little girl.

I love you forever.

Visitation will be held at KROWICKI MCCRACKEN FUNERAL HOME, 2124 East Saint Georges Ave, Linden, on Saturday, May 30, 2026, from 4:00 pm to 8:00 pm. A private cremation will follow.