At the feet of a dying man

Spent all morning and afternoon with my father. He is semi alert. He often asks questions about things he is dreaming as if they are real. He can barely move. His talk is mostly in whispers. Its tough to see but ya gotta deal with it. He is here for another day, which is all one can ask at this point. Really I have come to realize that we should be thankful for every day we are blessed with. I have wasted to many I feel. Each day needs to be cherished and every ounce of enjoyment wrung out of it.

That is what death is teaching me about life.