Merry PH Casino

And the heart monitor, the rhythmic tick-tick-tick sound of life in a cold white room, it became Merry PH Casino’s funeral music. Her strong, vital father was the human face of this struggle. Now he lay on the bed, alternately rising and falling, connected to the ventilator that breathed for him. The news from his doctors was grim. There was little

Merry PH Casino was at his bedside, running her thumb along the back of his bony hand, skimming across the paper-thin skin. She had pictured this differently: she thought she would get to say all the things she didn’t. She thought she’d have time. But life isn’t like that: you have an entire lifetime trying to unstick the sand from your hands and there isn’t really enough of either.

She looked at her father’s face, still and quiet after so many years of tenseness and pain – she had finally met his gaze, unsure of what good it did either of them now – all of it gone. She had spent a lifetime yearning for his approval, trying to meet eye to eye with him, all the while not really knowing what it was that she was striving for.

The man who had been so harsh, who was gone. What was it that had motivated him to push her so hard? What were the dreams that he had to give up to make a living and preserve his marriage and his family? These were questions she could have asked, and should have asked, but was unable now.

Or was it?Merry PH Casino’s courage rose up. She wouldn’t change the past, but maybe she could find him, tell him she was here.

She took a deep breath, and began: My love for you is like a flame, a tiny candlewho knows where it will go.Maybe it will last a lifetime, and maybeit will not.But the love inside of me is strong andtrue. And there is something, something more thatcompells me, somethingI cannot explain. I am surethat somewhere, one day, you will understand.She read it again. Then she set it aside. We spent the rest of the afternoon putting on a play. That poem was written by Claudia, my own 10-year-old daughter. She read it aloud because we’ve been having problems. My husband wants a divorce. He feels he hasn’t gotten enough from me, that he’ll never be able to trust me. But I know in my heart this marriage is not dead. I know there is something, something more that compels me, something I cannot explain. I am sure that somewhere, one day, you will understand.

And as she read, she cried. The writing was raw and unedited. It didn’t flow smoothly. But it was real. It was what she’d never been able to say to him. It was everything she was trying to say to herself.

When she finished, she looked at her father, hoping for some indication that he’d heard her, but there was nothing — no glimmer of knowing, no clasp of the hand. Just the electric measure of the heart monitor, and the movement of his chest.

Merry PH Casino’s stomach dropped. I’d hoped so badly he might have heard me. He might have seen. He might have understood a little of what it meant, how this bloodbath of verbiage wasn’t part of a language that could ever bridge our difference or our distance. How, if ever there were such a language, it probably wasn’t one of words.

She sat there, thinking, until the door to the room opened; a nurse entered, kind and sympathetic. ‘It’s time to say goodbye,’ she said gently.‘What?’ Merry PH Casino said, looking up; and the voice was hers.

Merry PH Casino nodded, her throat tightening. She bent down and kissed her father’s brow. ‘I love you, Dad,’ she said. ‘I hope you know that.’

She stood up and, with legs twitching, tried to walk away. But in the doorway she felt a faint pressure on her hand. She stopped. Her pulse was racing, she was on the edge of tears and turned back.

Her father’s eyes were open, only a slit, but she knew he was there, and knew he had heard. And then his bony hand, so weak but determined, gripped hers one final time.

Merry PH Casino was relieved. The words she had been afraid would never be spoken had been spoken after all. Her father had heard — he had known how much she had loved him, how much he had meant to her.

And with that knowledge, she was finally able to let him go.

Merry PH Casino

And the heart monitor, the rhythmic tick-tick-tick sound of life in a cold white room, it became MerryPH Casino’s funeral music. Her strong, vital father was the human face of this struggle. Now he lay on the bed, alternately rising and falling, connected to the ventilator that breathed for him. The news from his doctors was grim. There was little

MerryPH Casino was at his bedside, running her thumb along the back of his bony hand, skimming across the paper-thin skin. She had pictured this differently: she thought she would get to say all the things she didn’t. She thought she’d have time. But life isn’t like that: you have an entire lifetime trying to unstick the sand from your hands and there isn’t really enough of either.

She looked at her father’s face, still and quiet after so many years of tenseness and pain – she had finally met his gaze, unsure of what good it did either of them now – all of it gone. She had spent a lifetime yearning for his approval, trying to meet eye to eye with him, all the while not really knowing what it was that she was striving for.

The man who had been so harsh, who was gone. What was it that had motivated him to push her so hard? What were the dreams that he had to give up to make a living and preserve his marriage and his family? These were questions she could have asked, and should have asked, but was unable now.

Or was it?

MerryPH Casino’s courage rose up. She wouldn’t change the past, but maybe she could find him, tell him she was here. She took a notebook from her bag, the one she had used to write poems and ruminations as a teenager. She flipped through the pages, until she found what she was looking for – a poem about him, written years ago, that she had never let him read.

She took a deep breath, and began: My love for you is like a flame, a tiny candlewho knows where it will go.Maybe it will last a lifetime, and maybeit will not.But the love inside of me is strong andtrue. And there is something, something more thatcompells me, somethingI cannot explain. I am surethat somewhere, one day, you will understand.She read it again. Then she set it aside. We spent the rest of the afternoon putting on a play. That poem was written by Claudia, my own 10-year-old daughter. She read it aloud because we’ve been having problems. My husband wants a divorce. He feels he hasn’t gotten enough from me, that he’ll never be able to trust me. But I know in my heart this marriage is not dead. I know there is something, something more that compels me, something I cannot explain. I am sure that somewhere, one day, you will understand.

And as she read, she cried. The writing was raw and unedited. It didn’t flow smoothly. But it was real. It was what she’d never been able to say to him. It was everything she was trying to say to herself.

When she finished, she looked at her father, hoping for some indication that he’d heard her, but there was nothing — no glimmer of knowing, no clasp of the hand. Just the electric measure of the heart monitor, and the movement of his chest.

MerryPH Casino’s stomach dropped. I’d hoped so badly he might have heard me. He might have seen. He might have understood a little of what it meant, how this bloodbath of verbiage wasn’t part of a language that could ever bridge our difference or our distance. How, if ever there were such a language, it probably wasn’t one of words.

She sat there, thinking, until the door to the room opened; a nurse entered, kind and sympathetic. ‘It’s time to say goodbye,’ she said gently.‘What?’ MerryPH Casino said, looking up; and the voice was hers.

MerryPH Casino nodded, her throat tightening. She bent down and kissed her father’s brow. ‘I love you, Dad,’ she said. ‘I hope you know that.’

She stood up and, with legs twitching, tried to walk away. But in the doorway she felt a faint pressure on her hand. She stopped. Her pulse was racing, she was on the edge of tears and turned back.

Her father’s eyes were open, only a slit, but she knew he was there, and knew he had heard. And then his bony hand, so weak but determined, gripped hers one final time.

MerryPH Casino was relieved. The words she had been afraid would never be spoken had been spoken after all. Her father had heard — he had known how much she had loved him, how much he had meant to her.And with that knowledge, she was finally able to let him go.