It was three months before I saw him again. This was the longest period we had ever spent apart.

"It hurt on the inside."

Over the next few years dad would spend time at home then have to go to hospital for a couple of months, undertaking various treatments. Then he would come home but he would have to go back to hospital.

Eventually the times he was at home became smaller and smaller by 2007. He stayed home for 3 weeks of the 52 weeks in the year. It was on the 2nd of September, 2007 that I was first told he had weeks if not days to live. He was taken out of hospital as my dad said he would prefer to move on, as he said it, at home. Within days of him being home he improved dramatically.

"A true miracle."

Basically he was back to pre-cancer condition for what seemed like years but was more like months. However he had this cough. A horrible thing that was just gut-wrenching. Because of his near death experience every time he coughed I asked myself if he had died. Then he would cough again and I would sigh with relief. This continued until he went back to hospital again. Despite being told he had weeks if not days to live again, he came home and another miracle happened.

"The cough came too."

The process of ‘what if, sigh of relief, what if, sigh of relief, what if’ started again. But again, he went back into hospital despite another smaller miracle (the third) he came home but more than the cough came home this time. He was now skin and bone and had a prominent anxiety of what was after death.

Seeing my dad so physically weak and worried was something just totally horrible. As if with no more strength to survive. When he started screaming due to fear and the related nightmares I just started wishing it would be over. By late 2009 he had deteriorated beyond what was describable and by mid December he had passed away. Completely consumed by pure relief there was no worry of where he was and for 4 months there were no tears.

"Later on when the tears came it hurt but it helped."

My dad’s final hope or wish was for me to remember the good times. This was why I cried. I remembered walking along a beach kicking a soccer ball. I remembered how we were able to go white-water rafting after he improved in late 2007. I remembered how he taught me how to ride a bike before he got cancer when I was seven years old.

Despite the hardship and pain the only thing my dad focused on during late 2009 was the re-establishment of a proper relationship with me. This was the one thing I will remember him for. The most important thing. Our relationship.