What a joy it is for me to hear my father say, “thank you Rina.”
It’s affirmation that he still recognizes my voice.
Touch and sound of one’s voice keeps him company.
Barry Manilow’s music is playing as he sways gently tapping his hand on mine.
A gentle massage on his forehead and scratching his back bring him comfort.
Dialysis makes his skin itch.
He sits on his wheelchair facing the sun and the glorious morning view outside.
Unfortunately, his eyes remain shut.
I remind him that it’s Sunday morning and he is home.
Knowing that he is home brings him a sense of familiarity and safety.
Barry Manilow’s repertoire comes to an end.
It’s time for me to say goodbye.
“Gotta go dad, I’ll be back soon.”
“Thank you, Rina.”
Three words I will carry with me until my next visit to him.