One night, me and my cousin that I hadn't seen in a while came over to spend the night with me. I was 16 at the time. We could have done all the devilish things in the world but instead, we sat up and talked about my dad the WHOLE night. He was a very amusing man. We traded stories on things that we thought were funny about him.
One particular subject was one about this 1978 Chevy that he loved so dearly, but it didn't love him back. It would break down on him every time he took it out to drive. We laughed and ranted about that thing for hours. I went to sleep right before the sun came up with a smile on my face. The next day, my parents were supposed to leave for a cruise to the Bahamas. I received a phone call from my aunt that morning (of whom I was staying with until my parents got back from their trip). She informed me that my dad had gotten in an accident in his truck and I needed to go to the hospital right away.
I couldn't really break down and cry. All I could think about was the long night that I had thinking about my father. About how much I loved him. I think that was NOT a coincidence at all. I NEVER done such a thing in my life. Especially when there were parties going on that same night. Instead I chose to sit in and talk about my dad. He died the next day (along with my little brother who was in the car also).
But I still remember that night and how I took out time to appreciate my dad during his last night on this earth.