Seeing my dad this way, MINUS the ugly scar that had cut a vicious curved line into his face for nearly two months after the anti-climactic aftermath of the car accident that had left him with that gaping, bloody gash in his face, was…well, if you’ve ever had a relative who had a conspicuous wound that was always ever-present and you’ve had to unwillingly accustom to having to see that wound, day in, day out, then you’ll understand that I was in a flurry of emotions at seeing my dad without his disfigurement.
My head, in the space of a few seconds, was in several thousand directions at once. I was thinking all sorts: Where is the scar? Why is it gone? What the hell? Am I happy about this? What do I do?
And then my dad looked at me as I gawped at him, with a look that expressed everything we both wanted to know at that moment:
What’s going on?
Then, as soon as those several moments that felt like several hours had started, I snapped back to September 28th, 6:07pm.
All of this happened in just 2 minutes.