(ABOVE: My father in Orange, TX from 1980. Dad was my baseball coach. I didn't realize until years later that he didn't know much about baseball. But he guided our team anyway.)
I dreaded Father's Day after my father died. He died of prostate cancer. His outlook was good when we was diagnosed at age 58. The doctors told him that he was at Stage 2 which is 95% survivable.
He had surgeries and various treatments to remove the cancer, and we thought he beat it. But the cancer came back a few years later and quickly took his life. I wasn't expecting his death-- my mother phone called before sunrise on a Sunday morning with the news. If the phone rings before 6am, it's usually not good. Dad was a 5% victim.
Dad was my hero. I wanted to be like my Father. Dad would have been my best man in my wedding. Stupid cancer...
I now use Father's Day to reflect on my wonderful childhood and his leadership. I still shed tears too. In fact just typing this made my eyes water.