He was my best friend. I spent the last two years of his life right by his side everyday. We watched the sun rise and drank coffee and bullshitted. I quit a six figure job to care for him and I never regretted it a single moment. He died at home when he was untreatable, they gave him the option he choose to go home. I had to carry my hero in my arms just so he could go to the bathroom. The last thing he said before he passed was at 9am in the morning, I came into his room as he was watching tv, he said to me with a smile "what does a fella have to do to get a cup of coffee around here?" I laughed and said "you bet, give me a minute I'll get you one." I went to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee and by the time I came back, he had died.

I go to his grave every year on his birthday, a three day bus ride. I buy two tall cans of Coors light, his favorite when he was young, and I sit next to him and have a beer with my pops. I just sit and talk to him and sip my beer. I always get a tremendous warm feeling come over me, that's when I know my dads with me.