My father’s illness is complicated. The doctors and nurses are amazed how he has survived this long. My father though far from going home is off the breathing machine. He is extremely weak- though not in pain. His heart and mind remain strong and alert, though they have never been a problem. He cannot move but is starting to lift his forearms and voice. His lungs remain coarse and frail barely keeping infection at bay. He is a fighter and tough as nails most people would have caved in to the test of endurance that his body has gone through. Long is the journey ahead of him, he is far from out of the woods. It is evident that he has been reborn a million times during these two and a half months.
I am nervous writing this not wanting to speak too soon or jinx the outcome…
Following the signs of spring though in the midst of winter, she took the first rose pinning it to her breast. With each beat of her heart the perfume rose guiding her steps.
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