A Dad’s Love

Our footsteps echoed quietly through the waiting room and on to the elevator. There was no need to ask for directions; we had gone this way many times before. The sights and sounds were all too familiar. The elevator car­ried us up to the 6th floor and we quickly found Dad’s room. The antiseptic odors spilled out into the hallway and the beeping of the ever-present heart machine greeted us at the door. Family mem­bers were sitting and standing in various areas of the room and the usual, “How ya...