Because human beings can get used to anything, even I tend to forget that not so long ago he was a whole person. There are days I have to stop to remember.

He's the one who used to make me "fly" as a kid by lying down on his back, with his legs up and parallel to the ground, and me lying on my stomach on the lower part of his legs.

He's the one who used to make me "walk" all around the kitchen by putting my tiny feet on his steel cap work boots.

He's the one who used to make "bad" KD because he didn't use enough milk and it wasn't the way I liked it.

He's the one who used to make the same bad jokes over and over again, like when he asked me who my favorite dad was.

He's the one who drove for 45 minutes to boost my car (hmm, actually, make it his car) after I'd forgotten the the lights on before heading to philosophy class. And of course, he drove for another whole 45 minutes to get back.

He's the one who would keep my car in working order; he's actually the one who would get me the car, fix it and sell it to me.

He's the one who drove half an hour to save the belly ring I'd dropped down the drain and was unable to get for lack of an appropriate tool. He's the first one who showed up when my washer emptied on my appartment floor one morning.

He's also the one who helped me move many, many times, once even almost in the middle of the night, each time swearing it was the last time. He's the one who drove 6 hours in one day three times in one week so I could find an appartment.

He's the one who used to casually ask my mother "So Quartz hasn't called" when he wanted her to dial me up and hand him the phone.

He's the one who used to be unbeatable at cribbage - that, he actually still is; he can still beat me while his vision is so bad he can barely see the cards and concentrate and he's depressed as hell.

He wasn't always this weak, desperate, sick being in constant pain who's looking for a reason and unable to accept the turn his life is taking. He used never to cry, although now crying is the first thing he does when I come home and the last thing he does when I leave.

He wasn't always lying still in a bed. He used to get up at dawn every morning to get to work and enjoy it, too. Just last year he kept saying he was looking forward to working again. Except it never happened.

He never saw my house. It would be okay if he hadn't wanted to so much.

He said last year, he was convinced he would make it, although the doctors said he wouldn't. And now my graduation is in two weeks and he won't be there.

We used to enjoy just hanging out together, sitting in front of the TV and chatting. He would talk to me about cars, about his job, and I would listen. And now he doesn't even have to strength to talk, and he doesn't give a damn about anything anyway, because he won't live to see June.