My father passed away 10 years ago today, just 9 days past his 62nd birthday. Colon cancer. It was 10 weeks from the day that he was diagnosed to the day he died. No, he had not got checked regularly. My mother and I held his hand as he took his last breath, and then faded away, turning ashen. I like to think that my dad is in heaven, but I'm not sure. Although I felt that I knew my father well, we spent lots of time together, I don't know if he was saved or not.
I miss my dad everyday. I wish that he was here to see his three beautiful granddaughters born after his passing, and to see his older grandchildren mature. I wish I could sit down and talk to him the way we once did; that I could seek his advice and council in the many complex matters of life. I'd love to share one more martini (gin, straight up, extra dry, two olives). I'd love to smell his stinky cigar again.
Losing my dad was traumatic and tragic. However, losing my dad strengthened my faith, my marriage, and my family. Losing my dad made me take my health much more seriously (and yes, I get regular checkups and exams). But the most significant thing about losing my dad was that his passing forced me to look upward towards my Father for guidance and inspiration in my life. For that I am thankful.
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