I think this is a wonderful topic. This is something I wrote for my father, and I read it at his funeral in March. My father was the most moral and ethical man I've ever known, yet still so funloving and hilarious. He taught me so much of what life should be, including everything I wrote in this little piece. I miss him so much. I'm sorry it's long, but the best way I can think of to honor him is to share what he inspired in me. The night my father died, I couldn't sleep. I kept saying, "Come back, Daddy," even though I knew he couldn't. But I also knew that if he could have, he would have, even if it meant being in pain again. That's the kind of man my father was. He would do anything to help someone who needed it, friend, family, stranger. And he'd do it with a smile and a joke. And then I had a thought - maybe he hasn't really gone, not in the ways that matter the most.Because he existed, we have memories of him, and those memories will always be with us. Maybe they'll come at odd moments and surprise us, or maybe we'll purposefully call them up. Whichever way, they're here. He's here. Then I begged him again to come back, because memories don't seem enough. It's his physical presence that we're missing right now; his smile, laugh, hugs, handshakes, his conversation and sometimes odd sense of humor. We're missing knowing that we can see him whenever we want to. And those things have gone. We'll never get them back. But the best parts of him, the parts he gave to us from inside him, aren't gone. They exist, only inside of us instead of him. His love and loyalty, his dedication and generosity, all the care and concern he's shown to us, his strength; those things are in our hearts and memories. Those are the things we'll remember the most even when the sound of his voice starts to dim and the clarity of his face slowly fades. Death can only take the body; it can't take what made my dad the wonderful man he was. That's a truth. Of course, there's a difference between knowing a truth and believing a truth. Right now, I know that truth. I don't really believe it. Maybe none of you do, either. At some point, probably at different times for each of us, we'll come to believe it, and it will bring us comfort. And I believe that each time one of us reaches that point, Dad will be up there shaking his head and sying, "About time." That, too, is the kind of man my father was. He wants us to go on, to live, to love and enjoy life. And when we do, he'll be relieved. We were all so blessed to have this man in our lives, especially my sister and me. To have a father who was so loving and involved in our lives, who truly valued our happiness above his own, is something we'll remember and cherish the rest of our lives. Dad thought he was invincible, and in a way, he was right. Because death can't beat him, not as long as we remember and love him. So let's do that, remember and love him, with less sadness and more joy as time goes by. He'd do the same for us. I truly believe that. So thank you, Daddy, for staying with me, even though your body was tired and had to go. You're at peace, and we will be, too.