I hate death. I know that it is a necessary thing. I know that it is a normal part of the circle of life. But, in my opinion, it totally sucks big time. I am not afraid of it, and when it is my time, I will accept it as going home. But, what I hate is the losing of a loved one, knowing that they will never be there to teach you anything else, tell you a joke (even the ones you've heard at least 100 times), or be there to comfort you or celebrate with you.
My dad is my hero. That is something that will never change. I know he has feet of clay. I know that I don't agree with a lot of the things that he believes, how he acts sometimes, or what he says sometimes. But, he has always been an honest, hard working, loving dad. He has always had time to give us a hug, to tell us that he loved us, or to just watch a movie with us.
He taught me how to drive a tractor, to grow my own food, to fish, and to change the spark plugs and lights in my vehicles among many other things. He taught me to live life as I see it in an honest way, and that family always comes first.
He is 84 years old, and has been in failing health for a few years. But, this last few months, Life has really been handing it to him left and right. It is one disease or disorder right after another. Anyone weaker in a stubborn desire to live would have been dead a long time ago. His will to live is absolutely phenominal. And, I trully love this man.
