On September 15 my father quietly died. He died peacefully, at home, with his family around him; just the way he would have wanted to go. I miss him. I think of him often. I wasn't as ready for him to die as he was. But, at his funeral, with all of his children there, many of his grandchildren and in-laws, it was a beautiful thing. All his life my father put his emphasis on the family. He loved us, sacrificed for us, and the love that we felt for him was palpable. There was a great deal of peace and serenity. We knew where he was. Death holds no fear. It has never been so clear that my father's choice was the right one. More than ever I want to follow in his steps.