Myfatherhadbeenleftalmosthelplessafterastroke.I’dnursedhimbacktohealth， butIwasbeginningtofeelthatwe’dtakenastepbackwards.
AmonthafterMeg’spassing， .
“Teaandbiscuits， Dad.” Isaidcheerfully.
Heturnedaway， startled， butnotbeforeI’dseenthetearonhischeek.
“Whatalovelyday.” Iburbled， givinghimtimetocomposehimself.
“YesJill，” hesaidatlast， “It’sbeautiful.”
“Trytoeatsomething， Dad.”
Hesighedandlookedupatthesky.
“Thechildrenwillbehomefromschoolsoon.” Ismiled.“Thenyou’llhaveafightonyourhandsifyouwantabiscuit.”
HechuckledsoftlyandIhadtoswallowthelumpwhichhadriseninmythroat.
“Iloveyou， Dad.” Irestedmyhandonhisshoulder.“Please， don’tgiveup.”
“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean.” Heshrugged.
“Yes， ’vefoughteveryinchoftheway， youwerewinning， too， butlately， it’sasifyou’vejustgivenup.”
Heheavedasighandpickedupabiscuit， nibblingatitbeforegrinningatme.
Dad’sdeclinepuzzledthedoctor， too.
“I’ ’snothingphysicallywrongwithyourfather， apartfromwhat’， well， Ireallydon’tthinkthere’sanythingtoworryaboutthere.”
’sbloodtestscamebackclear， —buthewasn’t.
， butassoonaswegothome， he’dsinkbackintoapathyandI’dthink， I’mlosinghimagain.
’dbeensofullofenergyandlife， carryingmeonhisshoulders， chasingmearoundtheparkandcatchingmeupinhisarms.
He’ssetoffforawalkandalways， always， I’’dhadsuchazestforlifethatitbrokemyhearttoseehimnow， sittingoutinthegarden， ablanketoverhisknees， gazingmiserablyintospace.
Whenhefirstcametolivewithusafterthestroke， he’.
’dbroughtinastickfromthegardenandtrottedstraightupstairswithit！
