I lost my dad to leukemia two weeks ago. He battled hard against the disease for a grueling six months. We thought we were going to lose him a few months ago, but he fought his way out of the hospital and was doing better until the leukemia knocked him down again. He tried to get up from leukemia's last blow, but he had nothing left.
It was a horrible way to see a strong man die. It wasn't fair for man who spent his life healing others to die such a merciless death. In the end, his four living children were there for him in the hospital for the last several days of his life, and my mom, his wife of almost 50 years, sat by him as he breathed his last breath.
My dad shaped so much of who I am. He loved me and my siblings unconditionally. He was strict when needed, but always compassionate. He was prouder of our achievements than we were, but he never let us take ourselves too seriously. He was a father figure to our best friends growing up and a second dad to our spouses.
I've told my grandparents' stories on this blog and my other blog, but I do not know when or if I will be emotionally ready to tell my dad's story. He was everything I could've ever wanted in a dad. I am lucky to have shared this earth with him, and I am even luckier to carry his spirit with me for the rest of my life.
