Heroes come in many different forms…super heroes…sporting heroes…musical heroes…political heroes My hero was a lot closer to home. My hero was my Dad. But Dad was a hero for a lot of other people. I remember from a young age many knocks on the door @ 194 Dumfries Street. Dad would get his big white first aid box down from the shelf – and fix whatever was presented to him. It was as if they would call on Billy Waite first, the doctor second. This off-duty assistance would often extend to the many day trips we went on…if there was a road accident or someone collapsed in the street…Dad was always there to lend a helping hand and a reassuring smile. Over the years, he was approached by many people who he didn’t recognise at first…but they wanted to thank Dad for helping a member of their family. Dad was always proud that he had made a difference to someone at their time of need. His generosity towards me was never-ending, whether it was stopping the ambulance outside Cardiff Castle to get me the latest Adam Ant single on day of release – or taking me to see the latest Star Wars movie – again on 1st day of release. I remember one such time in 1983 – when Dad was 42 (as I am now). Dad was taking me to see Return of the Jedi in Cardiff. Dad wanted to relax on the train and I wanted to go by car – and (as usual) Dad gave in and we went by car. As we exited the A470 and stopped at the lights on Manor Way, the car stalled with steam coming out of the engine. Dad blamed me for wanting to take the car – but later admitted it was his fault for not putting enough water in the radiator. 16 years later, I was able to return the favour and took Dad to see the new Star Wars movie. This time around, the movie wasn’t as good – but at least we didn’t break down. Dad’s kindness to me went into my adulthood, whether it be fetching me from the pub or actually attending a rock gig one time with me at the 7777’s club in Maesteg. We shared a love of football and particularly Liverpool FC, but Dad watched any football match and supported whoever was playing Man.Utd. We watched many games together, whether it was at the Vetch Field or Ninian Park (in the old days) or more recently at the Millenium Stadium. Even a week before he passed, we watched a match together and shared some fruity cider – a night I will always remember. Even after being struck down with the horrendous MND, he never let it get him down…never lost his positive attitude. Some people say to me “Oh, you’re like your Dad” which I take as the ULTIMATE COMPLIMENT. Whether you knew him as Billy, Uncle Billy (as many people called him), Grandad or simply Dad, you will all have your own good memories of my Dad – which we need to keep alive. I personally will miss my Dad every day. For the last 2 weeks until he died, I told Dad “I love you” every day. That was easy because it was so true. It was this that I never wanted to say – “Goodbye, Dad”.