I have learned in my young years that death is the end, in the joy filled game of life. The day when God came to lift my dad from this hell called earth, I knew we would all have to go one day. My dad died in my mom’s arm. A tear fell from his eyes when he took his last breath. I know he did not want to go, but God took him then. He has been gone for two years now. When he died I thought my heart did too. I still shed warm tears for him in the mist of the night when no one is there. The smell of him stains his clothes. I see his face on the walls were I live. My kids will know of him, the man I call my dad. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t miss him. When they look at me they see him. Black with strength, filled with love. Goals to do well. He has big noes as do I; I have a big head, so does he. I am my dad. He is gone but through me he lives on. I will make my dad proud of his girl, you all will see. I know my dad can not come home, it’s been hard but I know he is now Gods to keep. I know my dad loved me and with that in mind I can live on. I will live not just for me but for us.