Excerpted writing from time with my dad:

I got to cry with him when I pulled out a heavy blanket and told him it was my mom’s favorite blanket. I got to dab his tears that night too. I get to count down the hours until his favorite time of day, five o’clock in the morning, his coffee time. I get to hold his hands when I gently pull him up and re position him in bed or on his chair. And when we’ve had an especially rough night, and he wants to tell me how much he appreciates me being there, I get to feel him kiss the back of my hand.
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