[ WP ] During his funeral , you ca n't help to think how sad your dad was and how he never amounted to anything ... until the president shows up .

It all happened quite quickly after Dad died. We knew it had been coming, as we were told the cancer had been terminal a few months ago. His wishes had already been set out weeks beforehand; the memorial service would take place in our back garden, followed by a private cremation at the crematorium a couple of hours away. They were the conditions he wanted to go out on, and so they were fulfilled. 
 
 The expected phone calls and flowers soon followed. Dad had been pretty active since he retired 10 years ago, organising numerous charity events as well as sponsoring some kids sports teams in the area. He had saved up quite a bit of money by investing as a side project to his own job, where he worked for the government by recruiting potential IT advisor's to government divisions. 
 
 My Dad was always ahead of his time. In the early 70's, when he returned from his service in Vietnam, he applied to study Computer Science and received his degree 4 years later, meeting my mother along the way. Soon after they got married, my older sister came along and then there was me. We were the standard American family. My mother stayed at home and looked after both me and my sister, while my Dad would go to work all day, leaving for business trips every few months also. He was always someone I looked up to and admired, for when I was younger, I loved how he was always so happy when he would come home from work, instead of looking so angry like some of my friend's Dad's. He would always find the time to play with me when he could, whether it was reading me a bedtime story or taking me to the movies. 
 
 This side of my Dad quite visibly changed when he retired. He did n't seem as active as he used to, considering he was still quite young at 52. His reason for retirement was being too stressed at work, and being away so much, but yet he seemed a lot more miserable when he was at home. He would read his newspaper each morning, followed by his morning walk with the dog, and then maybe work a bit on some DIY projects he had taken up in the garage. I would never see him go for a morning jog anymore, or even go for a day out with my mother to the beach. 
 
 Over the years this mentality progressed, and when he got his diagnosis, I think a sense of relief came over him. Since he had retired, he felt like he had just been waiting to die. The last few months were still quite hard. I loved my Dad, even though his sadness was a constant over the last few years of his life. It was strange to see how he was so unhappy doing the same things in his later years, when he had maintained the exact same job for almost 30. 
 
 The day of the memorial service had started quite strangely. Our house had been kept private since his death, as he had been resting at the local funeral home. I stumbled tiredly downstairs to my mother in quiet conversation with two tall, lean men in black suits. Upon my arrival, they thanked my mother for her coffee and offered their condolences to me on their way out. 
 
 `` What was that about?'' I yawned, still half asleep. 
 
 `` Oh, it was just associates of your father's, making arrangements for the memorial service later is all'' she replied. 
 
 I did n't think much of it, I had n't known much about my Dad's professional life other than he worked over an hour away and would often have to go on business trips. I never really asked him what he did either, as the world of IT never really appealed to me as a writer. 
 
 *** 
 
 It was a day that reflected my Dad's attitude to life in his later years. We sat out in the garden with about 70 members of my family and friends, underneath a clouded sky with a faint hint of light from the sun. I had prepared the eulogy a week before he had died, and had read it to him a few days before he passed. It was a happy feeling to know that he approved of what I was about to say about him, considering he had been such an influence to me. 
 
 I then heard doors closing from the front of our house, quite a number of doors closing in fact. Then followed a number of voices talking, when suddenly one of the men from earlier came through the side entrance before saying just one word. 
 
 `` Clear''. 
 
 At that moment, a sense of shock came over me. President Obama, along with President Clinton, were walking their way up our garden to fill the empty seats at the top of the aisle. My sister was in the same state of confusion as I was, yet my mother seemed quite calm, as if she was greeting them in an expected fashion. It was then when it hit me. The two men had been there this morning to organise the arrival of two such people. But still, why would they come to this service? How would my Dad have been so important that the President and an ex-President would attend? 
 
 I delivered the eulogy shortly thereafter, speaking of how I learned to grow into manhood by my father, by always being told to be whoever I wanted to be. It was then all of it dawned on me. My father had never been a simple IT advisor. He had to keep whatever work he did from me and my sister, so that we would not have been able to share his secret. 
 
 President Obama then spoke, outlining how valued he was as a public servant to the country, in both Vietnam and then in his role with the Government. It turned out that he had been the head of numerous divisions of the military which focused on infiltrating enemies through their technology. He had been one of the earliest hackers. 
 
 The whole thing was a shock, but I still could not understand why he could not have told me this on his deathbed. I am not sure whether it is okay to live your life as a lie as long as it makes you okay, which is a question I will keep asking forever.
