Dad

My father is very sick. I learned last night. What do you do when your father is very sick and you can't do anything about it? I cried a little, then I prayed. And then I cried a little. I think that's okay. I know it's a trial of faith, but is it really about having faith? Or just not wanting my dad to be in pain? To be suffering? I try to recall in my mind the sound of his voice. Because the illness has made him sound slurred and marbled. I try to recall the image of him from my youth. Strong and vibrant. I keep that image in my head. It gives me a thing to hold on to. I'm sorrowful. But that is okay. The tears release my pain. They are the signature of the love I have for him.