Benjie gently lifted his father"s bony fingers, pressed the back of his hand to his face, and kissed it. He was saddened but no longer surprised to see the grey and lifeless pallor of the parched sagging skin which covered the skeletal frame in front of him.
“Hello, Papa. It"s me, Benjie. How are you feeling? Is there anything I can get you?”
The head turned slowly and eyes opened. At first only confusion showed as Maurice looked up from the bed. Then his lips parted in a toothless smile, and a spark of life shone from his eyes. Benjie waited, hopeful today would be a day his father saw him as his son and not in the form of some memory from his dim and distant past.
“Benjie, you"re a sight for sore eyes. It"s good to see you, boy. I was just thinking about you, remembering the day when
