My Dad

My Dad, Popz as we call him, is strong. I never really thought about it, but it's true. He's smoked for 42 years, and has never got cancer or sick because of it. His blood doesn't carry oxygen properly, and has an oxygen content so low, it would have killed a lesser man. He had pneumonia for a year without knowing it.
In short, my Dad is stubborn. Far more than anyone I've ever met. And I love him.
He is no deadbeat dad. He took care of me and my brother. He loves us, and we love him, and I'm shocked that he managed to raise two perfetly reasonable kids so seemingly easily. I'm proud of him, and glad that he's my dad.
He's too damned stubborn to let something beat him. Which is good. He's got lots of stuff left to do. 
He's made mistakes, but who doesn't. He is a good man, my father. One of the best.