Her Father, His Daughter

Last weekend, I talked to a patient about her father, and a father about his daughter. They are one and the same. We’ve walked only a short path together, but I’ve watched her blossom because of him, and him because of her. She’s not ready for him to die, because she doesn’t think there will ever be a time that she is okay.

I didn’t tell him, though I wanted to, that when he died, she would be okay. I didn’t tell him, but I knew that his love for her would be what would make it okay. I didn’t tell him I knew it would be okay because in another world, I am the daughter with the dying but not yet dead dad.

The similarities of our stories are not lost on me.