After My Father’s

week of his life.

He had been thin by then. Smaller than any father should ever become. But his eyes were still clear.

“Carrie,” he had whispered once while I adjusted his blanket, “you happy?”

I had lied.

“Yes.”

His face had changed, but he had not challenged me.

Now I wondered whether he had known that too.

The next morning, I went to the hospital chapel continue reading …