On October 31st, 1996 at about ten past Midnight, my father passed away after suffering four months with lung cancer. I know a lot of people die of lung cancer, but my dad wasn't a smoker, always kept fit and active, but when he was about 25, he worked with blue asbestos and the fibres from that have been lying, waiting, in his lungs for almost forty years.

This page is here because I want to remember my dad, and to share some of the thoughts that have been generated over the years between he and I, as well as some of those sayings and wisdom that parents always have (and it's true - they are always right!). Basically, I'm trying to say live your life, don't dwell on the past and live every day as if it was your last, but make plans just in case it isn't. I was very close to my dad and miss him terribly, especially the conversations we use to have, which always stretched both our minds. Dad made the effort to learn about PCs, as he dabbled in the stock market to get a bit more cash in - although he was retired from his newsagents business, he still worked for an old friendly rival. He went on a typing course, a computing course, in fact any course he felt was necessary. In the end, he was very PC literate, and I was dead proud. He also learnt to ski in the February 1996, not bad for someone who was 63. I'm also the only person I know who's dad did a bungee jump before they did.

I really don't know how dad did it. I saw him upset only once in the four months, and apart from that he was his usual, cheerful self. I mean, he knew it was happening, but he was still cheerful - that is power of mind for you, very strong indeed. He seemed so OK, that when it finally happened, it was very quick (relatively speaking) and took me by surprise - I suppose the only good thing was we (mum, my sister and I) knew it was happening, so nothing was left unsaid.

Well, the way I remember my dad is him wearing black trousers, red shirt with a red and black tie and a black and white check blazer, leaning against his car, smiling. It's a terrible thing, but he bore it so well, and made it so much easier for the rest of us.

My dad - always positive, always happy.