David sat by the hospital bed of his
daughter. Cynthia was five years old and awaiting a heart transplant that just
didn’t seem to want to come through. She had been in and out of the hospital
for her entire life, and her body just collapsed three months ago. She was on
the transplant list, and any time a match was found, it was given to someone
else on the list. Her father didn’t know why, he assumed that it was for a
reason. Just like there was a reason for his wife leaving him that morning.
He was staring at the clock now.
Watching the seconds pass by, wondering when his daughter would breathe her
last breath. The doctors had given her till today to live. They had said that
she would last three months, if that. And as he listened to her ragged breaths,
he wondered if it would even matter if he pulled the plug. But then he stopped
himself, a tear tracing his high cheekbone and jaw line as it slid down from
his eye.
She would make it. They just had to
wait a little longer. They would make it.
11 Years Later
“Slow down! Watch the-! Brake! Your-!”
“Dad! Calm down! If you can make it
through waiting for a heart transplant to come in at the last inning, you can
bear with me while I’m driving!”
“Watching you die is completely
different from watching you grow up.”
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