Travels with my Father
I laid my head at my father’s side in his hospital bed. He was motionless, comatose, but I still hoped he knew I had been there for hours and days next to him. I never wanted him to feel alone.
“Are you okay?” a nurse asked me.
I thought it was a strange question. How could it be okay that my father was dying, and I couldn’t stop it? I lifted my head and told her yes, feeling embarrassed that she…