I knew my dad had a bad heart, but I never really understood what was wrong with him.
Now I watched a green graph representing his life scroll across a monitor and listened to a doctor explain how my father’s heart had become calcified.
“If you live long enough, it will happen to you too,” the doctor reported. “It’s just old age.”
Dad’s only response was another gasping breath.
At his funeral, I held my daughter’s hand while she traced her soft thumb over the calluses on my palm.
If I can feel that, I am not too far gone. Right?