From a son, to his father

I knew two sides of my father, but when it
came down to it only one side really
mattered. So much pain and suffering he
kept to himself so our lives could go on as
normal.
The hand of cancer squeezing him
tighter and tighter, but somehow always
managing enough air to tell us he loved us.
His pain turned to courage, his suffering to
devotion, holding our hopes of recovery in
his hand.
In the end even his strong grip
was'nt enough. Now he stands with God,
finally able to focus his attention as any
good father and husband, guiding our dreams
in a blissfull direction.
I will miss my father, but I know he is in a better place
reaching his hand of hope into all of our
homes. As he smiles down on us I say "God bless him".
My father,my angel in Heaven

I wrote this in2002. Ten minutes after getting the phone call from Ohio.

 
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