by Jude Frost

Created on: September 30, 2009

I've always disagreed that you can't choose your family, because I have been given up and then taken in. To all who will call him my grandfather I will correct you, for he was far more than what it meant to be a dad, he was my hero, and his name was Chris. My father Chris taught me optimism, because no matter how the world let me down, he picked me back up and made all my dreams come true. He loved me and I was far more precious to him than anything in the world, and he told me this often.

He came home from a visit to the doctor and our worst fears had been confirmed, cancer. Cancer, the word echoed through my body and I could feel my heart sink. He was always brave, and even now as he sat in front of me with my mother and grandmother's eyes already tearing up as if they had already lost him.

Although he had planned on refusing chemotherapy all of the family got together and talked him into it. We persuaded him and as I watched him come home from his treatments I saw him go from being the toughest man to not being able to carry a bag of ten pound groceries, but even in this small defeat he was the strongest willed person carrying on fearlessly.

One beautiful afternoon I came upstairs as he sat on our back patio, I brought out my sandwich and applesauce, he looked at me and said with a hint of sarcasm, "Oh, you're gonna make me one too, eh?"

I smiled and replied, "But of course."

I went back inside and I came back out with his sandwich and applesauce and we ate lunch together staring at a view we had seen a million times before together, and yet it seemed more amazing then ever. He took a long sigh after he finished his applesauce and he said to me, "Well, I'm off to go to my doctor"s visit, I'll see you later."

"Mkay, I'll see you later," and I smiled, "I love you."

"I love you too," he said.

That night after getting home from hanging out with my friend, I opened the door and my mother met me before I could take a step inside and said we have to go quickly to the hospital. On the way there she explained we have to go and say our last good byes to Papa Chris. On the ride to the hospital all I could think about was our last meal together. What am I going to do without him, Who am I going to get up at four in the morning to eat breakfast with, who's going to walk me down the aisle when I get married? We pulled up and we each got time with him. I promised him that no matter what gender my first child was I am naming them Chris and that they will be the luckiest kid for being named after someone so strong. I must have kissed his cheek twenty times, I never wanted to forget the way he felt, with his rough skin and stubble.

Hours went by after they took him off life support, and as we were about ready to go home for the night we were rushed back into his room where they exclaimed, "This is it!"

I held my breath while we all held him, I grabbed his leg and rested my head on his lap, I held him so tightly I could feel his almost nonexistent pulse. He gasped for each breath and we all smiled with tears pouring down our faces saying, "This is his Norwegian spirit, strong and stubborn, even now he doesn't want to give in."

In my head I kept praying over and over again, telling God I'm not ready for this and please I'll do anything.

He took one small breath in and you could see it in his eyes he was finally gone.

From the moment he left the Earth I felt a torch was passed, I want to be strong just like him, and I will be.

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