My dad died on July 5, 2003. I knew he was sick, but I really never thought he could or would die. He was a superman in my eyes. Of course, a 74 year old man with diabetes, nearly blind with heart fibrillation has little hope. But still, he was my dad. I remember him not as the frail old man but the 45 year old school teacher, naval officer who could still run me down if I dared challenge him...He took me to church too. And every summer, he and my mom would pack up our station wagon and our family would embark on three great weeks of camping somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. Even though he was never eloquent about God or Christianity, he lived it. My dad was from that generation that never said much from their soul. They showed their love by working hard, being home most nights, loving my mom and paying for most of my college education. He was no sentimental fool. He loved USC football (unfortunately he missed the championships), collecting stamps and traveling all over the world.
The last time I saw him, he held my arm and wobbled into the care house he was staying at. I will never forget him.
Rest in peace.