A few weeks before my twelfth birthday, I went to the hospital alone to give my father a farewell. I set a travel chess.

I tied my way through narrow gray corridors with trousers on the ankles and shirt sleeves away from my wrist. I was the only child between pounds, wheelchairs, doctors and nurses.

Turn left here Take it there This section This tray This floor Every time he returned to the hospital, he changed his room. Whenever he changed his room, I learned how to find him.

Cough for the first time in August 1972. He removed a bite from his lungs, but only a few weeks after that operation, he became the first major illness. Fatal skin cancer spread its lungs and brain. He died in March 1973.

March was only a few weeks away from the place where he was standing, at the entrance to his room, shutting down the set of chess and watching him in bed. He was so modest that his head looked heavy on his body. I saw him lying on the bed till he saw me.

We played chess. Then the set of chess was put together – in the box exactly turned, and I had closed the hash, and it was crammed under my arm.

He was sitting to play. Now I lie down in bed. I was wearing my coat. My hand was in another case when he said, “I will miss your vision.”

The coat was zipped. Now face her, look at her head on pillow.

He saw me, majestic and delicate He told me: “You will be a good person.” “I will grow up and become a good man … I wish I had lost my temper and tried again. “I hope I’m here to see it.”


He was crying I burst into tears

Then I put him on the bed because he was very tired to sit again. I basically kept it. I remember wrinkle coat and zipper pressure. I do not remember that I do not know what to do with a hand set with a chess set.

In that era, or in any era, when the truth affects you so much, knowledge has a strong effect on it.

It is quickly turned on and off, and for others it is difficult to understand what you already know. Even in this second chapter, when the light was on, when I knew that he was dying, I knew that I would remember him, but that knowledge had no meaning.

I had no idea of ​​age in 11 years and there was no way to understand what it meant to lose someone for 45 years: the day I graduated from college or the day I got married, both of my children were born and People who make decisions with length and bread, do not stand on a railing, just a summer evening on the profession, no thanks or Christmas, or on the roof, after a hot day, the first sip of cold beer together.

He was just 39 years old. But he had the concept of age and he told me what words he could move forward.

This was the best gift of the time, which gave me confidence. This is what I remember more about my father: what was going on between your eyes and your ears. She was always answering you, even though she did not know him.

After forty-five years, life on the other side and a few minutes after midnight, I sat in a ward in the emergency room in Boston, and the doctor heard that I had cancer.

Al-Jones was erected on the crossroads of two roads, which was submerged in a corner and was referring to the station of nurses. An hour ago, I was trembling under a blanket of blanket.

Now these blankets have taken me, kicked and ignored, while the sweat of fever came on my head and back. I tried to understand what he was saying because arms and naked legs were stuck on the mattress immediately. I was 56 years old.

My wife got a chair and sat on the feet of Jairan. I stacked my clothes in his lap. He now put weapons on the heap, lowered his phone’s face and pushed his glasses to the top of the head. I saw the doctor talking. He was a resident.


Ttraffic behind Susan’s chair was stable

Wheelchairs fit with it, and people walk with pillars IV but every few minutes, they have to stand on my body like a parcel and have to clutch their clothes and have to take their chair next to it, so the next genie ambulance Can pass.

They carried blood in laboratories. Resident return with results He stood next to Susan’s chair and closed the door that he was doing. He had dark curly hair and he looked serious and intense, who was always a good student. “Do you want to hear the result?”

He blew our ears like a trumpet. “We have not yet swabbed, but the results of blood count refer to leukemia, and you will be admitted to the hematology and oncology unit when the bed is available.”