My father’s words were muddled and incoherent. His once bright eyes now held a glassy-eyed stare. Clutching his cold damp hand I would try to be patient and see what he was trying to tell me.
Moving closer to the bed, I studied every nuance in his ashen face. I searched desperately for a sign that he was still very much a part of this life. But eventually I saw the truth. My father was dying and I had to face it.
Later, I said my goodbyes and whispered in his ear, “until we meet again.”
Moving closer to the bed, I studied every nuance in his ashen face. I searched desperately for a sign that he was still very much a part of this life. But eventually I saw the truth. My father was dying and I had to face it.
Later, I said my goodbyes and whispered in his ear, “until we meet again.”
