I don’t like that you saw me like this.
Not like this.
See me as I was.
A good man that you once knew.
The one who preached to be strong and stay positive.
Words I should’ve lived by not just repeated.
The man who once decided to do a marathon out of the blue, and finished.
I remember showing you have to drive when you were 11.
You drove down that rural road as if you had driven your whole life.
That day, that smile, that’s what I want you to hold on too.
I was there for all your successes and helped picked up the pieces of your failures.
The day you told me you were living for the Marines.
Watching you graduate from boot camp.
Those were your proudest moments and more will come.
To me the day I held you in my hands, was my proudest moment.
I pushed you because I knew nothing less.
You pushed me too, and I’m sorry I stopped.
I can’t push and fight anymore.
Nothing left, no matter what we did, the results would have been the same.
I want you to remember me fighting.
I’m not giving up, just giving into the truth.
Do not remember this old man, curled up and drained of all life, nothing left but the shell of the man I used to be.
The smiles, the laughs, the fishing trips and heart-to-heart talks we would have.
I hope I have raised you to be a better father than me.
I was full of life, and that’s how I want you to remember me.
I will always love you.
Signed Your Loving Father.
– A letter to a son, whose father has lost the fight against cancer.
Day #26 SJD
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