We all have fathers and we all lose them.  Either we die or they die, but we are eventually and forever lost to each other.  Fathers can be good or bad, but always they are part of our blood; answering questions before we speak because they know better than us.  They can turn the pages of a book without hands or fingers and they give breath to our sixth sense.  A Navy corpsman killed my father one night in a hospital room.  He overdosed him on morphine.  Earlier in the afternoon the corpsman had called me and said that my father would not make it through the night.  I had received other calls like that one over the years and always my father had not died, but this time was different.  My father was a Marine and this Navy corpsman decided that he was going to put my father out…