It was hard to see him like this…

My father-in-law, Blair, hooked up to tubes, confused because of the difficulty getting oxygen to his brain, struggling to even turn in the bed.

“Randy, I have NEVER felt this bad before. I am so weak,” he had told me earlier when I stopped by their house to drop off some soup.

Mary Jane was taking care of him, making sure he took his medicine, drank his fluids…

She wasn’t feeling good either.

Neither one had slept the night before.

A little later that day, she called an ambulance to take Blair to the hospital.

When I got there, I saw him in his current state.

My best friend in the world, the one who welcomed me to his family in spite of my hippie looks, taught me how to fix things, build things, pour concrete, love, forgive, and to be content with life.

Anything he had, I was welcome to.

His knowledge and understanding were the best.

With an eighth grade education, he is the wisest man I have ever known.

His stories of an earlier time have always thrilled me.

He wasn’t telling stories tonight.

But when he finally finished struggling, and got comfortable in his hospital bed, I think I caught a glimpse of the old twinkle in his eye, as he said, “Good night. I’ll see y’all in the morning.”

Get better, Blair.


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