I was on my way to the hospice. Dad's old caregiver, Andrew, had asked to see me. And I was riding with Christian. Joshua was driving us.
Christian was traveling out of town for business. He'd been by my side the last two weeks. Taking care of me, and making sure he was there if I ever had another panic attack.
Honestly, I wondered how I would have survived dad's death if he wasn't by my side. Even on nights when he had work to do, he'd come to my room carrying documents and papers, sit at my table while I slept, and simply be there.
He almost didn't want to leave, but I'd assured him that I was doing better. And I was, at least, I tried to convince myself that I was. I still felt the sting in my chest every time I thought about him, and the memory of dad made my heart tighten in pain, but I could go days now without crying. Even the nightmares had gradually subsided.
