My dad's arms

This past year has been a difficult one for me as I have struggled with the loss of my dad. My dad and I were close. I could talk to him about so many things and he would just listen. He loved me with all of my shortcomings and faults. Even when he was dying from melanoma he was so proud that his hospice nurse told him that I really knew my stuff. His face lit up when she said that. How awesome it feels to rest in your parent's approval and pride. I have been missing him so much and have been worried because some days I can't seem to remember my dad as he was when he was well, only sick.

The other day I was walking back into my work building after having lunch with my co-workers and walking toward me was one of my favorite patients. He beamed at me and then told me that he had missed me. I reached over to rub on his arm and then realized that his arms looked just like my dad's did when he was healthy. They were tan with light hair and freckles. In that moment I could see him again, healthy and happy and smiling at me. Mr. F. probably has no idea why his hug was extra long when I left him. I choose to look at these things as small gifts from my dad to me. A balm for my heart.