He was 72, with so much more life to live.
Five foot – ten, and never over 176.
Healthy except for a bad back and leg.
Loved to swim, but soreness overcame.
He smoked, and when the pain was bad,
he smoked more than a pack a day.
He wasn’t here to walk me down the aisle;
He missed so much that day and more,
A massive coronary took him from us,
Suddenly and without warning.
Now I am sad when I hear of loved ones
Who still smoke. I want to take them
By their arms, shake them, let them see
The tears in my eyes when I plead.
I don’t want to lose you. Please don’t smoke.
Dawn Renee Writes 
My best friend watched her father die from smoking. He couldn’t walk from the living room to the kitchen without sitting down ten times in the chairs they lined up against the wall for him. She died of the same thing. Smoked wile wearing the patch. Went into the hospital to try and stop. Nothing stopped her but death. I saw a program on stopping and told another friend that they made the people carry a clear jar with them, everywhere they went. Every cigarette, and the ashes, EVERYTHING, went into the jar. It got so disgusting, she quit and never smoked again. You have to really want it. My dad’s best friend had a stroke from smoking and my father quite the same day and never smoked again. Talking doesn’t help.
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I know how it feels. My father tried, but it would only last a few days each time. And I agree, they have to want to stop, nothing else, no one else, can do it for them. Even love is sometimes not enough to make a smile quit…or an alcoholic to stop drinking, or a sugar addict to stop carbing up their diet. Addictions are difficult.
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