An year eight old boy doesn't have the capacity to understand what cancer is. So when my parents came home from the doctor with news of my fathers diagnosis, to me cancer was the same thing as a common cold. My father, Edward Morgan Grove, was diagnosed with Mantle Cell Lymphoma, a rare and aggressive form of non-hodgkin lymphoma. Even though I didn't, my father knew he was going to die fighting this battle. He recognized that growing up without a father to rely on would be a difficult path for me. Knowing he couldn't share his lifetime of knowledge with me at eight years old, he spent the last one and a half years he had left on earth writing letters for me to open as I grew up. Every birthday and milestone I reach has a letter waiting for me, telling me about himself, and teaching all the advice he never got the chance to. Although he isn't with us anymore, I'm hopeful he would be proud of who I am today because I've lived my life following his guidance. My father was a real estate appraiser, and often took me to job sites with him. We’d walk through the houses together, pointing out which features strengthen, or devalue a home. In the months leading up to his diagnosis, our dining table had been covered in blueprints. He was planning to expand our house, build it up into a suitable home for our growing family. I would sit with him while he planned everything out in front of me, walking me through his plans and asking for my professional eight year old advice. He never got to build that addition, his cancer advanced rapidly, and any money saved went straight into his treatment. My father’s passion for that project is one of the driving reasons I plan on studying Architecture in college. His skill and love for the industry inspires me. I look forward to carrying his memory with me, implementing our shared love into my studies. His death affected everyone in my family differently. My mom struggled after losing her husband, leaving her to raise three kids alone. She later remarried and found herself in an abusive relationship with a man struggling with alcohol abuse. Losing my father to cancer, and my mother's struggle with alcoholism led me to become self-reliant early. I didn't need or want my moms help anymore, especially in her current state. I began to work multiple jobs, quitting all of my school sports and activities to open up my schedule. Any free time I had was spent avoiding my own home, scared of what I'd face upon my return. The only thing that kept me hopeful were the letters my father left for me. He told me it was my job to help and protect my family. He said his death would never be an excuse for me to be anything but the best version of myself. His guidance gave me the courage to finally leave home, revealing to everyone the truth about what was really going on in my family. With my absence, and the support of my family, my mom quickly got sober and divorced her abusive husband. I thank my dad for saving my family. Without the foundations and rules he laid out for my life, and the standards he set as a husband and father I would’ve never been able to speak up. Even after nine years of him being gone, I'm able to see him everyday through the life I'm building.