Dad's funeral was standing room only; most in attendance were strangers to me. At the back, a lone Marine stood silently, then left. People told me he'd saved their life or helped them in their darkest hour.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I pressed my father's hand and told him I would protect his grave with my life. My father smiled and passed away to the spirit land.
It's a source of great sadness to me that my father died without having seen me do anything worthwhile. He was constantly having to make excuses for me.
My father was absent and he was a hero to me.
My dad sacrificed many things in life for me. He abandoned a very promising and lucrative career of an army officer just so that he could continue helping me with my chess and accompanying me to tournaments.
My dad died when I was 23. His death was sudden and shocking - the result of a car crash - and I never got to say goodbye.
With the help of a friend I got father into a wagon, when the crowd had gone. I held his head in my lap during the ride home. I believed he was mortally wounded. He had been stabbed down through the kidneys, leaving an ugly wound.
Being president of too many well-meaning organizations put my father into an early grave. The lesson in this was not lost on me.
As a Marine officer in combat, I was responsible for the lives and safety of all the Marines who served with me.
My father always wanted to be the corpse at every funeral, the bride at every wedding and the baby at every christening.
As I flew back from New Zealand to bury my mother, it occurred to me that no matter how harrowing her loss was and how keenly it will always be felt, there was, nevertheless, a sense of relief that my father, sisters and I could say a final goodbye after the longest goodbye and relief that my mum had finally been released.