…he three fingers that say I love you in sign language. It’s the two broken ears you were born with. It’s the stupid way I’m playing with numbers while you wheeze in a plastic bed, unable to eat, as if there were a trick to this, as if there were a tidy way to sum up everything about you, as if I could teach myself how to say good bye.
This makes my heart hurt.
One day, my Dad was walking through the kitchen on the way in from the deck. He told a joke, chuckled, fell to his knees and was gone. Like his soul just kept walking while his body dropped. Fast was no easier than slow and I suspect there is no easy way to say goodbye to a parent.
I am so sorry. Thank you for sharing this.