Grandpa, Dad and Friend

  My father was a strong man. He built houses and fixed cars most of his life to make ends meet for his family. We loved him for that. When his doctor told him that he his cancer had came back this time in his liver he took it in stride. He didn’t slow down as many people do when they heard the news that there struggle with life got that much harder.
  I remember the days back then seem to get longer as we waited for news. He would have his good days and his bad. He didn’t like sitting still. He wanted to go mow the lawn in his finial days. He had just been on the roof fixing the swamp cooler. We took a picture but swore never to show it to anyone. He wanted to feel better, he wanted to say that he was getting better but we all knew different.
  Just before his death he was on my roof fixing an air vent. He had heard I needed one. That was the kind of man he was, always looking out for others, even when they didn’t know. I miss the days of waking up and going out to the shop to work with my dad. There was always something to do, even if it was just cleaning the work area getting ready for then next project.
  Every once and a while, I have a dream that I am there working on projects with my dad. I made every minute count. I wake up all too soon and need a few minute by myself to show my misery privately. I miss the old man; he was the glue that held my family and my friends together. He was an arbitrator and an honest man. He was my father.