He was sick and in a hospital in Boston.
I walked home from the hospital, so evidently i was living in my old apartment on BeaconHill. I don't remember anything that he said, of him talking, but i do remember holding his hand.strange how the mind works.
1 comments:
I love that image. I don't think it's strange to dream about our parents. I do all the time. My dad was sick, after a stroke, for 7 years, practically immobile and helpless. when I started at last to dream of him in his pre-stroke self, I woke up crying, but grateful.
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