“Daddy, what about the rest of your pictures? Are they all like this one?” “I’m taking care of it, honey. It’s a story for another day.” “All right. Thank you, Daddy. You’re still my hero. I love you.” “I love you, too.” That was the last time we spoke, and neither of us knew. We never know, do we? At least we ended by exchanging our love. I have that. It’s not much, but it’s something. Others have it worse. I tell myself that on the long nights when I can’t sleep. Others have it worse.
