“That nurse said I have to say goodbye to you. Doesn’t she know we don’t do goodbyes?” My attempted laugh comes out as a broken whimper and I quickly slam my free hand against my mouth to hide the sound, then force myself to look at his face. He looks like my Papa, but he doesn’t. His big blue eyes are closed, not shining and bright. His ever-present laugh lines, nowhere to be found. I just want to hear his voice, see him smile. Just one more time. Beep. I squeeze his hand. I’m here. “I’m…scared, Papa. I don’t know how to be brave.” I nod my head frantically. “But I will be.” I reach up and
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