It takes courage to live, courage to grow old and it takes courage to die.
I see my father night after night trying to do the best that he can given what has happened. He is too ill to go home, too weak to move, and yet he is alert with a strong heart… too strong to die.
"Does it pay to be healthy and strong all your life only to suffer like this in the end? What did I do to deserve this?" He says with a barely audible voice.
We look at each other knowing that the questions he asks do not need answers. He knows the answers. Instead he is voicing his pain, sharing his grief, processing the path he is on. Sometimes we want to be heard without having a response given. You know just talk and talk and have someone listen and hold it.
I put my hand on his heart, my head on his shoulder and listen to his courage…. and in doing so find my own.
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