It was ten years ago today that my dad breathed his last breaths.

With me and my sister Shelly sitting at his side in his home in Innisfail, Alberta, he left us. As death goes, it seemed peaceful enough. But I know that it was at the end of months of physical and emotional agony. I was with him much of the time.

I can’t believe that it’s been a decade without him.


It makes me sad that he’s had to miss my kid’s growing up. It makes me angry that my girls couldn’t have him for longer in their lives. But knowing that he still has so many people thinking of him so fondly all of these years later gives me piece knowing that he lived so well.

My dad always taught me, usually without me realizing that he was teaching me. He even did so in dying.

As I saw him deal with the frightening madness that hit him when the cancerous tumor took over his brain I saw something in his eyes and felt something in his spirit that told me that he wasn’t really as ‘gone’ as people thought.

In his last days, knowing the end was soon, I saw concern for those he was leaving behind outweighing his own fear.

When I stroked out four years later, his courage fueled me. I knew no matter what happened, I didn’t have to give in.

A day doesn’t pass without a lump in my throat at some point as I think of my dad. Never will.

Cheers to a great life lived. Great, because he touched so many people in such a personal and powerful way. What could be greater than that?


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