I packed for a visit to my dying father. I walked into something far bigger
“Just get on a plane and come. We need more help,” Esther rasped.
My sister and her husband, Neil, had been hunkering down for months in our childhood home in suburban Green Bay, Wisconsin, to care for our cancer-ridden father. But it was getting too intense.
Dad! My heart constricted. I always felt a pang when I thought of my mother, who passed away ten years ago. Now that familiar dull pain throbbed with lightning speed.
I looked around at my brood sitting around the supper table, jockeying each other for a position closer to the fried chicken.
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