Feeding Daddy

It’s a weird concept, feeding your own father. I never imagined that I would have to do this for him. I assumed that he’d always be the one to nurture me, at least until I was well into adulthood. You know what they say about assuming… Now it’s a daily occurrence that I feed him cans of his nutritional supplement through a tube in his stomach since he can no longer swallow.

When Daddy was diagnosed with esophageal cancer, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I burst into tears in the hospital room, although I really didn’t want to cry in front of him. My mom and I had to leave much too soon for my liking.

The house felt so big and empty without Daddy in it. It was almost as if he had died, even though he was still very much alive in the hospital. I’m not big on being emotional in front of others, probably something I’ve learned from Daddy, so I made sure that I was safely in the shower before I let the tears begin to flow. I leaned against the wall, heaving, and sobbed as the warm water ran.

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