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A Silver Bangle

My father-in-law is dying. He is so very dear to me, the father I never had. The time we have had together has been far too short. I wish we had more time, but I suspect that I would feel the same no matter how many years we could have had together. The girl that never had a father and the man that always wanted to be a father. It’s complicated, as families tend to be.

I have been sitting by his side over the last couple of days, through the frightful hallucinations, through the reduced respiration, through the too deep sleeps. I have been wearing a thin, silver bangle during these difficult days. It is something that I normally don’t wear on a regular basis, I just happened to have kept it on in the fog of these hospice days. I began to notice that while holding his hand, he plays with the bangle ever so slightly with his fingers. The bangle tells him that it is me beside him and it provides a much needed point of focus during times when that is almost impossible for him.

And now, the thin, silver bangle around my wrist reminds me of this connection that we have.  When I am not with him, I too play with it ever so slightly with my fingers, thinking of him. The girl that never had a father and the man that always wanted to be a father. I may not take if off for some time to come.


Sonnet 140

shakespeareandtheatre:

Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press
My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain;
Lest sorrow lend me words and words express
The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
If I might teach thee wit, better it were,
Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so;
As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,
No news but health from their physicians know;
For if I should despair, I should grow mad,
And in my madness might speak ill of thee:
Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,
Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be,
That I may not be so, nor thou belied,
Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.