I stood there at his bedside. He hadn’t spoken in weeks. He was barely alive, thanks to expensive machines keeping his vital functions working.

So many playful moments went through my mind as I remembered his better days. He had been an amazing man, I had been privileged to know him.

Yet, one of the things he had taught me was stoicism. I didn’t let my emotions out very often. I was always the strong one, the one to stand firm while others cried, screamed or otherwise vented. It was one of my strengths.

Still, it also meant that some things were only implied and never said. Did they count when they were never uttered? Would it make a difference to say the things which both parties already knew?

Maybe I was simply afraid to say it. The feelings buried so deeply that they oozed out with every action. But inaccessible to the voice. Somehow, the bottle needed to open and pour out… and quickly.

I saw his eyelids flicker and I knew it was now or never.
“I love you, Dad!”
Then the heartbeat line went flat.
My eyes flooded – with sadness, but also relief.
He knew.

(Image from Pixabay)