As real as it gets
His eyes fight the strong urge to stay open as I stroke his hair. He wants to stay awake but the power and comfort of the human touch is too much to bear. When I stop, he opens them again as if to ensure that I am not leaving his side. I continue.
The love I feel for this man is beyond comprehension yet so familiar to a love I once felt for another wonderful man, my father. I wasn’t there the day my father died but I was there on many other days by his side, giving him all the love I had in me and more. I left his side on a Sunday to go back to my family and he died the next day. Thankfully, he did not die alone.
This man whose hair I stroke is my father-in-law; a man I’ve known since my…
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