.Twenty years later...
Shelby,
Pacing the floor of this hospital, gripping my hands together wiping tears casually, my father sat on the chair with his head hung low. My mother was currently in surgery after a second heart attack last night.
Just last month she was perfectly healthy, taking our morning walks and talks before I headed to work at the diner. My dad called me last week saying she had a heart attack and it looked bad, every day since she’s been in this hospital getting worse by the day.
“Dad, how did she get so sick?” I whimpered sitting next to him, staring at the heath posters and smelling the alcohol and sterilized waiting room.
“I don’t know, but I need to make a phone call, wait here.” For some weird reason, he seemed nervous and almost anxious. It’s not surprising
