A Father’s Day Note for Those Who Have Lost Theirs
My father died at 54, eight and a half years after he was first diagnosed with cancer at 46. His death, in January of 2003, was preceded by months of painful suffering as chemo and radiation failed to turn the tide of the cancer in his bones. But even in those waning days as I was helping him through the indignities of a body that failed him, he was still fathering me.