On November 19, 2004, my father lost his battle to brain cancer. I remember the tears, the “What now?” moments, and the pain. That’s not all I remember, though; in fact it’s what I remember least.
For the first nine years of my life, I remember the laughs he gave me when I would sit on his lap and he would bounce his leg up and down. I remember coming home from school and seeing the snacks he would make for us waiting on the table. I remember watching TV with him as my mother would leave for work, and watching her return hours later and the two of us still sitting in the exact position we were when she left. Most of all, I remember the love.