My Father continues to heal, slowly. He remains in the hospital. It is difficult to see him day in day and day out in pain. My Mother rarely leaves his bedside. My brothers daily visits are his glory. Relatives and friends come to visit like a constant stream of love.
…and in the other rooms of the hospital similar stories are echoed.
Being in the hospital is a never ending story of life and death, happiness and sorrow, agony and grace. It is a volcano of emotion spewing and erupting, it is not for the weak of heart and yet it is…
Sitting in the lobby one views life’s parade: A pregnant woman comes in leaning on her husband’s shoulder, an older gentleman walks out alone crying, a young man walks in with a bouquet of flowers, an emergency helicopter lands while a group of teenagers cry in the hallway, a mother walks out with her newborn baby wrapped in a blanket….life continues to continue no matter how anyone is feeling.
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Thank you for every ounce of love and kindness you have shown to my family. I am overwhelmed by your generous support and friendship.
Photo: My youngest brother Zane’s and his wife Joy’s baby (the youngest grandchild) sitting in an old high chair in my parent’s home.
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