Loving Unconditionally

From 7 Days.

His eyes seemed grayer than the day before, and the stubble on his cheeks and chin had grown quite a bit. A sticky white residue from the tube in his throat being taped to his face for stability was left on his lips and stubble. The nurses and I wiped him down several times, but his face remained greasy from lack of a real bath or shower in more than four days. The flesh on his cheeks was rubbery and plastic. It felt as though it might stretch across the room just as it hung from his bones. I was having to work harder to recognize my father. My father, the man who always bailed me out. The man who always went to work. The man who showed up every time he said he would. The man who always believed in me. The man I could always count on to be there, wherever “there” was. He was always “there”. He took me in when my mother turned me out. He found BILY* and taught me how to communicate. He had all the goods on me, and he loved me anyway. As I stared at this man who had been a part of my last thirty years, I wondered: Who would be there to love me unconditionally as he always did?