Dear Dad,

When people ask me how you are, my immediate answer is, "sick." No, you don't have cancer and we aren't counting down the days. But you are sick, very sick.

I try to be strong. I know it's what you would do if it was one of us, you would be strong. Dad it's hard. It's hard when I see your hands tremble. It's hard when I see the cuts on your legs from falling. It's hard when I see you fight back tears. It's hard when I see the man who is my father lose the will to eat. It's hard when you say to me backing down the driveway, "Hattie you have a sick father."

They say there are five stages of grief--denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I think that's bull. I feel emotions that don't fit in a mold. It is like a roaring ocean of sorrow and suddenly a drought and I am overwhelmed with fear. I am terrified. I try not to let you see me cry because I know, you feel it too.

I know it's hard. I have no idea the pain you have felt and continue to endure, but it has made you the man you are and I wouldn't trade you for the world. Three marriages, special forces in Vietnam, a Purple Heart, the death of a wife, bull riding, marathons, the swat team, law school, our family and so much more has made you the man you are today. As Mom said to me two weeks ago, "Your Father lived hard." Your life has been filled with triumph, grief, foolish desiscions, wise words, wild adventure, and love. Deep rooted love. You are a fearless, driven, quiet, intimidating, scared, sick, 71-year-old a father of three--who loves his family and cats.

Your dad died when you were 6. I don't know how you knew what a great father was, but man did you learn. No one is perfect, I know that. We both know that.

You never took work home. You always came to our sporting events. You took us fishing, hunting and gave us memories people write country songs about. You are unable to do what you once could, but you support, protect, and love us.

Thank you. Thank you loving me. Thank you for punishing me. Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for never giving up on me. Thank you for saying, "Hattie your Mother and I are proud of you," every chance you get. Thank you for loving Jesus. Thank you for loving Mom. And thank you for fighting, even when you want to give up.

Being your daughter is the greatest privilege of my life. My favorite subject to talk about is you. From your strange quirks, to your extremely intimidating nature, to your gentle heart and compassionate soul. You are the person people spend their entire lives trying to capture. But, no book, movie or blog post will ever be able to truly convey the incredible man you are.

I want you to know you did your job as a father. I am not perfect, far from it. But, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be where I am today. As you would say when talking about marrying Mom, "I outdid myself." That you did, Dad.

I know everyone has battles, you taught me that. And this is one of ours. This is just a stop to where we are going, home to meet our Creator and Savor, Jesus Christ.

Dad I know you are in pain. I know it is hard to wake up in morning. I know you are not the man you used to be, but you are still my Dad and that's enough for me. Please Dad, for Mom, Buck, VC, and everyone else in this world who adores you, keep fighting. We need you.

I need you.

Love your best mistake,

Hattie