The time was near. My father had fought cancer for 3 years but the fight was drawing to a close. Over 3 years a strong man had slowly diminished until he had reached the point that he could not get out of bed.

Being an early riser I was always the first to visit Dad in the hospital. As his body weakened our roles had reversed. At times I helped him to walk and assisted my mother with his care when he was home. The day after the doctors told us that there was nothing more they could do I went to see my father in the hospital. That day it was his turn to be the strong one again. Dad looked over at me sitting by his bed in the early morning light. I must have looked miserable. Wanting to comfort me my father looked directly at me and said "Don't be sad - I've had a wonderful life". With those words the tears came.

I told Dad how much it meant to me that he had never lost faith in me and thanked him for helping me to get my life on track. I told him how happy I was that he had met my wife and that I was so glad that he had been able to come to our wedding. Dad asked me to look out for my mother and then he gave me some advice. He told me that when troubles would come in the future I should pray. I remember him telling me that the bigger the problem the more I should pray. And then he told me to listen carefully for an answer. He also gave me an example of how he had prayed and how God had answered him. That may have been the best advice I've ever received.

A few days later a nurse came into my father's hospital room and asked to speak with me. She was visibly upset and told me that fluids were collecting in my father's lungs faster then they could draw them off. The day had come. I called my mother and my sisters and brother. I also called our minister.

Dad had been awake and able to talk when I walked into his room that morning. Although he closed his eyes before the rest of our family arrived he was definitely aware of each person as he would squeeze their hands while they talked with him. We all said our goodbyes.

When death came my father went quietly. His wife of 50 years and all 5 of his children were there with him to let him know how much he was loved as he slipped from this life into the next. Even in death he gave us a final lesson in living.

Some people view death as the ultimate defeat. I'm sure that is not how my father viewed it. By never giving in to his illness and by never losing his faith in God - death wasn't a defeat. It was a victory. A victory over a terrible illness and a starting point to a whole new life.