It always gets you in the end.

That was what she said concerning his father passing away at the age of 66. It was the ugly truth about life. Nobody escapes death, its methods might change through the years as you age and time matures, but death always catches you in the end.

Those were morbid thoughts going through John's mind as he sat drinking in the bar. His father, John Smith the third, had passed away earlier that day. It was a type of pancreatic cancer. John Smith Jr, did not remember the specific type, but he remembered the doctor saying it was the same kind that got that apple guy, the one that invented ipods and the Mac, in the end. Essentially, his dad had little change of survival. His dad was diagnosed exactly four months before he passed away. Today.

Even though John was nearly 30, no kids, or wife for that matter, he could not keep the tears from his eyes. Something that his dad might have issue with, maybe. It was because he dead. His dad always told him to get up on his feet and not cry, that men don't cry. To keep the tears at bay, John took a drink of his cheap beer. It was in a white mug with multicoloured polkdots, it was an odd bar, but it was the closest one to the hospital. The hospital did not allow alcohol on the premises.

Of the two of them, John was the only one that cried at his mothers funeral. Carcrash, due to driving while intoxicated with her not-so secret lover. Both of them passed away. She was an orphan, and his father's side of the family were not the close kind. So the two of them were the only ones who attended the funeral and the burial. It would be the same now, except it would just be John. His father had no friends or coworkers that would remember him. The steel mill that he used to work for had closed down two years before he retired, he worked at a super market store for those last two years, and then he moved states when he retired, away from his son.

He only contacted John when he was diagnosed, so John rented a short term apartment in the city to help him get his things in order as his father stayed at a hospice care center. Even though it had been three months, John could still remember the disappointment his dad's eyes and face when John told him that he still had no kids and no wife. "So much for keeping the family name alive," he said. He seemed more worried about that than he did about dying. "We work for most of our lives, yet we still have nothing to show for it when death comes knocking. Well, I understand John. I never liked being a father." That was all he said that day. For the next few weeks, his verbiage mostly consisted of that, including his final words.

The polkdot covered mug was empty; John went to have it refilled, for the third time. He was going to die soon to, what did he have to show for it?