breathing indeed more labored than it usually was. She hated
that he was fighting for air. Fighting for the very thing that
should come naturally.
“It was fine.” She wanted to ask him about his day, but she
was scared to. She didn’t want him to have to talk if it was a
struggle, and it appeared so painful. She left it at that and let
silence fall between them. She was happy just to sit with her
dad. She made sure that every second, every moment, even
now, was something she stored away to cherish later.
Her dad wheezed in the silence, and then he clutched her
hand a little tighter. “I’m ready, you know. When it happens.”
No! You might be ready, but I’m not ready. You can’t go
yet.
I can’t lose you. I don’t know what I’m going to do without
you. She blinked back tears and choked back a sob.
“Sweetheart. We’ve known this was coming for a long
time.” Her dad’s thumb stroked the back of her hand.
“I know.” Cancer was so mean. It took her dad’s vitality, his
life, their life. It had squeezed out everything and plunged
them from living a good life into poverty and despair. “It just
went so fast.” It sounded callous. She regretted the words
immediately. The past three years hadn’t been fast. They’d
been agonizing. Her dad had fought so hard. He’d been so
brave throughout all the pain and the suffering and the horror
that was the disease and the treatment both. He’d hung on for
her, she knew that he had.
The wheezing deepened. Her dad struggled, gathering his
strength because there was something he wanted to say to her.
She hoped it wouldn’t be the last thing. “My darling. You’re so
beautiful. So smart. I don’t want to leave you all alone in the