One day the master becomes the student, all men equally hope and fear that their son will surpass them one day.

In 1994, I was 19 at that time. My best friend and I whom I have known since we were in the early years of high school (I believe it is called "junior high" in the U.S.?) were hanging out at a bar here, and we were talking about his soon-to-be enlisting for the army here.
Since then, he was very devoted to the country, and he is still one of the strongest people I know. I admire him and hang out with him for a barbecue every now and then. He has a child now (23 years old), recovering from a terrible accident - he is the one who talked me into this website, by the way (the child).
Anyway, so we were talking about his father, and how the fact that he will leave is quite pressuring because his father was having lung cancer. I volunteered to come take care of his father as often as I could (because I was planning to go to college here, I couldn't see it as a problem, I was living alone).
In 1995/'96 he was in the neighboring country of Bulgaria, en-route to Macedonia for peacekeeping reasons. I was visiting the old man, he was coughing badly one night of the 15th of December '95 (the war was declared over, but he was there for peacekeeping continuously). Because the father was weakened due to the cancer, I was trying to carry him to the bathroom, kitchen etc. He was quite heavy for me, I was weak, skinny, and was quite difficult for me to move him, but I had a promise to keep.
That night, he asked me kindly to take him to the front yard, because "he wanted to look at the street." I went to grab his jacket, put his socks on and his shoes, and he asked me to give him his Sergeant cap so he could use it to keep his head warm. I thought it was quite ridiculous, but who am I to deny the old man.
As I carried him to the porch, I laid him on his armchair in the yard and he said to me, just as I was putting him down, "I wish I could see the stars closer, one day."
He started coughing, and coughing, and coughing even harder. When he finished his last cough, he laid on his back, motionless, looking at the stars he was longing for.
The life in his eyes died away, there was nothing but the shell as his spirit flew into the night, among the stars.
I called my friend, he could answer only 1 week later. His wife was there with me, as we laid the old man to his final resting place.
My friend came back, devastated, he missed his father's funeral.
I told him to be happy, for he can live on in his memory as he remembers him: happy, with blue eyes always looking for the good in people.
Now, almost 20 years later, I still go to work out, carrying the barbell to my chin, and for a moment - I can feel my dear friend's disappointment going away. I still hate myself for not being able to do more.

Well if thats true im really sorry to hear it man

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Who the actual **** are you?

Why am I here? I skimmed the story. Someone died? Why do I care? There's no context.

Check comment number 95.

k.

COCK OFF FAGGOT

Then why mention it?

well now you have to share

Don't encourage him.