The stars in the night sky could not determine how much grief I felt. As the thought of you passed through my slim body, my laughter lines drooped, the hairs on my neck pricked upwards, my skin whitened, my eyes lost their own touch of sparkle and I felt a sense of uneasiness. Days passed by as I thought of all the good things and all the bad things. Months passed by as I remembered that hair-raising day. The day you left me to fend for myself. You were more like a father to me than my own. You taught me how to ride a bike. You taught me how to fish. You taught me how to read a book. You taught me how to sleep at night. You taught me how to tie my shoes. You taught me how to spell. You taught me about the ways of the world. You taught me to be compassionate. You taught me to love my enemies. You taught me to be kind but mostly you taught me how to live free of worry. You saved me when no one else could, you saved me when no one else would. Now the only person to save me is me. Not that I could. You were only 61. Sixty-one was the age when you were told you only have one more year to live. Sixty-one was the age you were when you were told you were suffering from kidney cancer. Sixty-one was the age you were when I knew I would lose you forever. Slowly you were dying. You could no longer play with us any more. Those goodnight stories turned into late night worries. You became sluggish, moving when it was necessary. The bikes became rusty. The race car you loved became unloved, the darling horses started dying away, just like you. You moved in with us when it became too much to handle. Our house was a hospital. Mum became the doctor. Constantly looking after you while her children and the bills sat in the corner neglected. We were sent to dad’s house. Mum could no longer handle having children at the same time as watching her father die away slowly. One day dad brought us over to see you. I brought over my homework to show you my post