My dad would have been 88 today. We lost him last fall, after a long three years during which he was bedridden. My dad was always so active, it seemed like he was always going somewhere while I was growing up - he worked full time as a rural mail carrier, then studied to become a deacon. After he retired, his days were full performing activities for the church. He went out of his way to help others, to inspire others. So when a freak medical nightmare left him bedridden, it discouraged him most that he couldn't continue his deacon work. He had no idea how much he inspired others with his courage and humor in the face of atrocities beyond his control. His final struggle was even more inspiring. My dad was a true hero.
Happy birthday, Dad. We miss you!
