To my dear Dad

Father's Day brings memories of the worst day of my life, when my father died in my arms. I have been tormented by the memory of that day and it always brings on the tears. I would give anything to have him back, but the reality is he's gone. I like to believe that he is sitting on a porch somewhere, with my mother, looking out at the lake they loved so much, having "Happy Hour" and enjoying life, whatever than means where they are now. Although both of my parent's lives ended tragically, my Dad's from what's called "dry drowning", a result of his asthma and my darling mother from Alzheimer's, they both lived long and mostly happy lives. My Dad made it to 81 and my mum to 84, although she didn't remember much the last few years of her life.

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