My Dad
It was snowing. I woke up to see the big fluffy flakes hitting the basement windows of the guest bedroom. That might not seem so unusual. It was after all only the beginning of March. But this was a freak storm in Maryland, a place that does not really know how to handle the snow. Me, I love snow. It is a connection between God and I. And I knew. I knew, and the tears started welling up. My dad was going to die today. I ran upstairs to talk to my sister and my mother. I had to get to the hospital. We had just been told the day before, the day my dad had awoken from a week long coma, that instead of a few days, now we had months or maybe years that my dad was going to live. My sister, who always has it in her heart to be helpful, who has to be moving, to be doing something, was already organizing a list of places to visit. Places that dad could spend the rest of his days. I declared my emphatic plans to head to the hospital - NOW. They looked at me strangely, perhaps they th