I’ll Never Forget That Day…
I'll Never Forget That Day... The doctor cleared his throat. “I’m sorry… but I have bad news.” He looked at my dad. “You have cancer.” In high school, my dad was an athlete. An All-American football player. Now he was sick. Very sick. Before long, he needed an oxygen machine just to breathe. And he stayed that way... for eight years. Simple things became hard. Walking. Sleeping. Getting up. Eventually, he couldn’t climb the stairs. He spent his final months in a hospital bed in the den. One afternoon, Mom was in the kitchen. Suddenly she heard Dad gasping for air. She rushed into the den. “Breathe, Paul! Breathe!” But it was too late. That night, the phone rang. “I guess you know why I’m calling.” “Your father has passed away.” I don’t want to end up like that. Neither did my friend Janice Gravely. But by her mid-70s, she was getting worse. Her family talked about hiring a full-time nurse. She made a small chan...