I cross the floor to where Dad sits. His head is tilted to one side, and I doubt he’s even read a word. His eyes are mostly glazed over.
“Is he sedated now?” I turn back and ask the doctor.
“A little, yes.”
“If he stays, can he be weaned off them?”
“Mostly, when he settles in.”
My heart twists in my chest at the sight of him like this. Doped out and only half there.
“Once the paperwork and finances are sorted, how long until he gets a place?”
The doctor taps his tablet, scrolling for a while before he looks back up. “There’s a place over in the medium-care facility if we’re quick.”
“Then be quick. Email my sister back, she can have it all taken care of. After all, I’m just the help.” I turn my back to him and sit on the arm of Dad’s chair. He looks up, as if in slow motion.
“Hey Daddy,” I whisper. Too emotional to worry about which name is best for this situation. I just want him to be my dad. Not Hank or Mr. Black. Just Daddy.
“Hey, honey. What are you doing here?”
I huff a sad laugh. He’s still there, despite all the drugs they have given him.
“Just here to see you.” I dot a kiss to his forehead.
He pats my cheek and returns to his book. “Have you read this one? It’s incredible, Tisha.”
Loosing a strained sigh, I nod. “Yeah, it is.”
We chat about the book in his hands, even though I’ve never read a word of it. His words slur when he tires from my visit. So I just sit with him. He listens as I hold his hand, running through every wonderful memory we’ve ever shared, letting my memory do the work for us this time.
And the contentment and happiness that shine through the eyes that have always seen me with all the love a parent can give fill my own with tears. If this is the last time we get to have this, it’s a moment I will treasure for the rest of my days.
A tap to my shoulder disturbs me twenty minutes later.
“Visiting hours are over, lovely.” The same nurse I met last time gives me a genuine smile, and I stand.
“Bye, Daddy. See you another day, okay?”
He smiles up at me, but I can tell by the vacant look in his eyes he doesn’t remember. The moment is over for him.
Sandy slides her arm through mine. “It will get better, I promise.”
I can’t even look at her, having to scrunch my face to stem the tears that won’t let up.
When we’re out of the communal space, she stops in the hallway and hauls me into a hug. Her hand rubs circles on my back. “Every time you think you’ve not done enough, I want you to remember all the times your family was happy. That’s all you can take from this disease.” She holds me at arm’s length. “Alright?”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Oh, sweetheart, he’s in good hands here.”
“I hope so.”
She swats my arm, and I chuckle a strained, awkward sound.
“I know he will be, I will make sure of it. Now, you get home and focus on getting ready for your Christmas. Don’t let this steal your holiday joy, hon. Don’t give it that kind of power.”
It’s all I can do to stare at her.
