. . .causing him to be loopy and falling. After a hard fall we took him to the hospital where they made the diagnosis. He had a metal plate in his head from his injuries in Vietnam so they could not perform an MRI. Performed surgery only to see that the tumor was inoperable. Radiation/Chemo(?) for a couple of weeks, then a stroke. 

The happiest dad looked after the stroke was when he asked my mom to take him home. She said, "Of course honey." Dad beamed. We spent the morning building ramps to the house in anticipation of dad in a wheelchair. We took him home on a Friday, he had a little dinner, then relaxed in his chair. My older brother dipped a cloth in single malt scotch and dad sucked on that like crazy. Ten minutes later he collapsed. 

Took dad to the local hospital. We were all standing around dad as he was on what the doctor called "auto pilot." I leaned down, grabbed his hand, and whisered into his ear, "Dad, you lived a great life. You can go now. War Eagle" He died that night as my mom held his hand.