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My Father's Hands

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My Father’s Hands My father passed away a year ago from a brain bleed after a massive stroke. I was with him in the ER the first evening he arrived. There was a lot of activity in his room. Several nurses rushed in and out. He looked at me with a broad smile, rambled some gibberish, and then laughed as if he just said something hysterical. I smiled back with a forced laugh. Shortly after that he closed his eyes and it was the last time I saw them. I am so grateful I was able to be with him in those last moments of consciousness, even though his ability to really communicate had been severely compromised. Blood was quickly pooling around his brain, cutting off oxygen. I had no idea it was the last time to hear his voice or see him smile. Now, a cherished, but painful memory for me. Our family was never a touchy-feely kind of family, but in the moment, holding my fathers hand felt like the right thing to do. I imagined somewhere in his mind he might be scared, so I reached down a...
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Depression Doesn't Wear a Seatbelt

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World Semicolon Day 2024

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