Something to Be Thankful For

Alexandria, Virginia

I walked into the hospice room. Dad was lying in bed—his eyes half-closed, his breathing barely audible. I’d rushed to Cleveland to be by his side. I’d been home in Alexandria, chopping vegetables for Thanksgiving dinner, when my sister, Nan, called.

“I got a call from the hospice,” she said. “Dad doesn’t have much longer.”

Oh, no! Not I thought.