Steel and Silence
Mark remembered his father most clearly in
Moments, not words.
Standing in the garage.
Fixing something that wasn’t even broken.
Wiping his hands on a rag that had seen better days
days.
He wasn’t the kind of man who said: “I love
you.”
But he showed it.
In the way he made sure things worked.
In that way, he was always there.
In this way, nothing ever seemed too much for
him to carry.
Until cancer.
Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML) didn't come
crashing in.
It crept.
Slow. Quiet. Relentless.
At first, his father treated it like everything
else—something to push through. Doctors
said things. Treatments were discussed. But in
his mind, it was just another problem to solve.
Except it wasn’t.
Mark watched the strongest man he knew
begin to fade—not all at once, but in pieces.
Energy first. Then strength. Then something
deeper… something harder to describe.
Pride, maybe.
At 82, his father had lived a full life.
But that didn’t make it easier.
When he passed in 2020, the world didn’t stop.
But Mark’s did.