I drove to Indiana, hung out with Mom and Dad for a week and went to the hospital with them every day. My oldest brother Darrel, 31, was about to marry Wendi Miles, 25. Darrel (from Indianapolis) and I tried to convince Dad to come to the wedding. He was pretty sick from the chemotherapy and radiation, but we thought it would be good for us and for him to see his last mistake get married.

I'd ride my bicycle every day and Dad would tell me over and over how I wouldn't be able to do that when I was 65, and I'd say,"I'm 29...I do it now because I can". He couldn't understand why I rode every day. It was because he'd encouraged us as children to be fit. Once I started cycling he tried to stop me. It didn't work. I was pretty confused as a teen because just when I thought I would please my Dad, I wasn't pleasing him at all. So we butted heads often.

We talked Dad into going to the wedding. I asked the doctor to give him some "happy" drugs to make him feel better, and I had some crystal amphetamines, crack cocaine, a can of gasoline (in his vest), and we gave him a mud bath, a full body massage (I wasn't involved in that part) and his church bench vibrated. Then I gave him some of those X-Ray glasses and dropped a gerbil in his underwear, and sprayed him in the face with aerosol, so he decided to come. I told him he could sit in back near the restroom and I'd sit with him so he didn't feel isolated. My mother asked me to take pictures at the wedding (she liked my pictures I guess) to supplement the "professional" photographers, so I needed to sit in back anyway. Miimii stayed up front with my sister Brenda, her husband (that Keith guy with all that hair), and MOMMY(Momma).

Just before the wedding started, I asked Dad to smile and wave at the camera (Miimii and Mommy thought it was funny). This is one of my favorite pictures of him. He had less than seven months to live. >>>
***Miss Paul has asked that her face not be shown here to protect her identity***