The Five Wishes of Mr. Murray McBride

by Joe Siple

we taught the boys to work hard, get an education, make a life for themselves and not to rely on anybody—including us. Can’t help but wonder now if maybe I should have spent more time telling them how much I loved them. If I had, maybe they wouldn’t have been distant parents with their own kids.

She extends her hand just like last time. I take it and don’t want to let go. Her skin’s so soft. So young. Just the feel of a young person can take me right back. Of course, I don’t let on that I’m thinking that. Might seem improper, even though it’s innocent enough.

Things hurt worst first thing in the morning. It’s like death senses an opportunity—an old man lying down, eyes closed, breathing slowly. Like most of his job is already done for him and all he has to do is lower the final blow.

You’ll have plenty of time to be dead, Murray. But this is the only time you have to live. Don’t throw that gift away.” He pats my leg again and stands

“There’s more to being a father than making money, see? There’s Little League games and crushes on girls. Superhero dreams and learning magic tricks. Birthdays and Halloweens and Christmases. That’s the good stuff, but you haven’t been around for any of it. You haven’t seen what a great kid you have because you won’t let yourself see. “But I’ve seen. Believe you me, I’ve seen plenty. And I understand you better than you think.”

Grief is as unpredictable as the game of baseball itself.

But now I see it. It’s because there are two hearts in each of us. The one that shows what we’re made of. How much we love and how well we live.

“Yeah, but God’s supposed to be stronger than the devil. So why does he let it happen?”

guess he gives people free will,” I say. “And that has consequences.”

“Everyone deserves a list, way I see it. Everyone has one. Sometimes they’re just too blind to see it.”