My dad was my best friend. He gained custody of my younger brother and I when I was 4 years old and I had always idolised him but it was when I was an adult myself with a husband and children of my own that we truly became best friends. My dad was intelligent and full of energy - my brother and I always joked about the fact that "he was always in a rush". Dashing from place to place, he was always far too busy to sit still for long even after he retired as his job as Managing Director of a window company. When my twins were born, Dad become a devoted Granddad. He came round every single day in the week while my husband worked to help me bath the babies and would push the pram while I did my daily hour long dog walk . I loved those times as we would always talk about anything and everything. My dad loved to talk - chatting to anyone. He went to the gym 3 times a week and we joked he did more chatting than exercising!! As my children got older, the daily visits stopped but he would still visit every week to help with homework. As an ex grammar student my son thought Granddad was far more intelligent than me and loved his help with his maths. Then a couple of years ago the devastating diagnosis that Dad had prostrate cancer. Dad with his usual optimism never complained. The specialist assured him that with radiotherapy he would be fine. Weeks of radiotherapy ensued and Dad drove himself everyday the two hour return trip to the hospital, often popping in on the way home to see us all. He never moaned about the unpleasant side effects and for a while we were hopeful he had been cured but then he started to struggle with his walking. The consultant assured him that it was not the cancer but then in August he could no longer walk. He was taken to hospital and was told that it was indeed the cancer and it had now cracked the hip bone. More radiotherapy ensued and another positive outcome predicted by the consultant, sending him home with weekly physio visits. Those weeks were hard, watching my active Dad, sat in a chair day after day but with determination he began to walk again with the aid of a frame. Sadly though he never left the house again. In November he was taken into hospital once again suffering from dehydration where he was given the final devastating news that the cancer had spread and was now terminal. The cruellest part of the disease was that Dad not only lost the ability to walk but also the ability to talk. My chatty, positive, funny, intelligent, active Dad was reduced to a shell who slept all the time. We are grateful that we got him home for his last two days but I lost my best friend on the 3rd December 2017. My world will never be the same without him. I miss his daily calls, chatting about the latest TV Drama or just nothing in particular. He was my constant throughout my life and I still cannot believe he is gone. I never did a eulogy to him at his funeral so this is it. Thank you for being the most amazing man Dad. You were so brave in battling this cruel disease and you were so much more than just my Dad, you were my absolute best friend. I was blessed to be your daughter and my children were blessed to have you for 12 years as their Granddad. Thank you. David Blake was born on the 5th February 1939 and died on the 3rd December 2017 aged 78.