My father passed away, roughly a year ago. He had brain cancer. Multiple operations, chemotherapy and radiation. None of the treatments helped. I think I somehow knew, when he was diagnosed that he was going to die. Strange how that happens... I knew and throughout his sickness we shared a lot. He told me stories of his young days. How he met my mom, how she was the light in his life. Shared his stories of war (he was a Parabat in the South African Defense Force) He told me of his businesses, how they were successful, how they failed. We shared a lot during those months. Before he lost the use of his legs, we would stay awake and just talk. He told me his life story. How he forgave his mother for never telling him who his real father was, how he forgave his stepfather for all the bad times. He told me about the mistakes he had made in his own marriage. I told him how I'd forgiven him. I told him how I got my heart broken. He gave me advice. I told him everything. We shared everything. He was and will always be my best friend.
My dad fell down a lot in his life but he ALWAYS got back up. He never gave up. Even in the face of hopelessness, he never let it get him down. I hope that I can be half the man that he was, half the father he was.
I think about him every day. I see him in my sister and in myself. I cherish those memories. I miss him but despite that I am satisfied that he lived a full life. He changed many lives and most of all he made me who I am. I love the fact that I'm becoming more and more like him. He still is my role model.
I am very proud to say that I am my father's son.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9AVCNo_8J4&feature=related
