Kandace
I'm having trouble fathoming the last seven hours as I sit beside my mother and brother in the hospital waiting room. It's a blur, and yet as I sip my stale coffee, I'm numb. Beyond the windows the sun is rising, bringing color to the sky. Justin has been drifting off to sleep for a few minutes and waking back up with a start. Each time, he asks the same question. Mom is quiet, too quiet, as her bloodshot eyes continually fill with tears. It's possible I've also slept, but it doesn't feel like it.
Dad suffered another heart attack—that's his preliminary diagnosis. The ambulance rushed him to Washington, a bigger town than Riverbend. I'm full of wishes. I wish we knew he wasn't feeling well and had time to get him to Bloomington or down to Evansville. The doctors said that wasn't
