Larger than life.

The world is a much darker place than it was two weeks ago. That's because on March 29, 2011 - on his 36th wedding anniversary - Frederick Bryan Melhuish took his last breath.

My father-in-law was truly larger than life. And yet, to use a cliche to describe someone so unique seems somehow wrong. But how else do you describe the way his very presence filled up a room? How the people around him couldn't help but notice his big laugh, his loud voice, his jovial nature? Strangers were drawn to him. Friends and acquaintances sought out opportunities to be near him. And why wouldn't they? Bryan always appeared to be having more fun than anyone else - whether he was dancing with his glamorous wife, knocking back cane and Cokes with his sons, throwing the ball with his grandchildren, playing tennis with friends, or even just enjoying a bacon sandwich on his own.

Bryan loved life, but he certainly had his grumpy moments too. Of course he made no apologies for his grumpiness. Or anything else for that matter. Bryan was who he was. Take him or leave him. And most people were more than willing to take him exactly as he was. He could call your baby ugly one minute then have you laughing about it in the next.

No, Bryan didn't hold back his opinions. But he never held back his emotions either. The words "I love you" flowed freely from his lips, and perhaps that is the thing I loved most about him. I can't count the number of times I heard him say those words to his wife, to his children, his grandchildren, even his friends. And of course, I heard him say them to me often as well. I can still hear him saying, "I love you, my girl. Take good care of those babies," the last time I saw him.

What I never told Bryan was how grateful I was that he said those words so freely. Because in doing so, he taught his children to say them also. And now, I hear those words from my husband multiple times a day. My little girls hear them from their father all day long. The words "I love you" certainly aren't saved for special occasions around our house. Nor should they be.

Bryan was certainly larger than life. But he wasn't stronger than death. The battle he fought with cancer wasn't one he could win. He valiantly kept the enemy at bay for more than eight years, but the war had to end eventually. And I think he made peace with that fact long before anyone else did. He continued to let doctors poke and prod him to humor his loved ones, even though he knew the time was coming for him to wave the white flag.

We all knew the end was near, but no one was ready to say goodbye. Certainly not last October, when Bryan and Sally came to Atlanta to meet their newest grandchildren. And yet the distance made it impossible for us to say one last final goodbye in person. Instead we Skyped almost daily until it seemed cruel to force him to wave at a webcam from his bed. Then we knew it was time. We booked our flight but Bryan passed away the morning we left.

Perhaps it's better that way. I don't think the larger than life man we knew would have wanted our final memories of him to be at his deathbed. Instead we'll remember him as he was. Laughing. Drinking. Dancing. Telling Jokes. Offending people. Answering the door without any clothes on. Shouting at his favorite sports team on the television. Handing out champagne cocktails as he welcomed you to the party.

And I'm sure he'll have one waiting for all of us when we see him again someday...