The cancer took him in March of 1996. He fought hard, over four years with multiple myloma. The doctors gave him 6 months when he was diagnosed. My wife and I found out he was sick while I was stationed in Guam. At first I thought I might never see him again. We might never call each other during the Army/Navy games again and give each other a razzing. We kept praying for him and after a particularly tough time he wrote us to say that God must have decided that if we needed him that bad we could keep him. God saw fit to let me be stationed in Arizona for the last three years of his life, but that's another story.
Read the rest of this entry ... (713 words left)
