I look back on photographs of my father as a young soldier and see a different man than the one who died just over three years ago. The man who died was thin and weak, yet still told me "I love you kid."
He was physically weak from the cancer that ravaged his body bit he was still the man I knew as a child. He still had a sense of humor and enjoyed golf. He was the man who yelled at Jack Nicholson when he missed a putt, and cheered when he got a hole in one.
He was a great man and is sorely missed. I love him very much and know that he is watching over me from heaven.