November 26, 2006 was the last day I got to see my father alive. How does a son suppose to cope not seeing his father around? Reality punched me in my face when I saw your casket put underground. I can feel that inevitable lump in my throat. I can feel those salty tears form in my eyes. I get envious when a father encourages his son. I get sad when I can't show you all of the hard work I've done. I remember you telling me, "Buddha, you can be great." So I worked hard pushing for straight A's. You pushed me forward on the good and bad days. Ahhhh!!!! I screamed to the heavens when you died. You were my hero. You were my guide. When you had that heart attack I was sure that you would beat that battle too like you always do, But when I saw you unresponsive on that hospital bed I remembered that heroes needed to rest too. You were a fighter that beat your addictions in the 12th round; you were resilient never letting your hip disability keep you down. You were my lighthouse when the waves were high. You were my anchor when the fierce winds of life passed me by. How do I move when I lost a vital piece to my life? But you trained me to be strong. You taught me what was right and what was wrong. You taught me to stand strong even if getting up takes long. Not having you here is hard and I don't even know where to start, but all my memories of you will stay alive with every beat of my heart.

"When do you think people die? When they are shot through the heart by the bullet of a pistol? No. When they are ravaged by an incurable disease? No. When they drink a soup made from a poisonous mushroom? No! It's when... they are forgotten." -Dr. Hiluluk