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My mother and I were the only other ones in the room, as the hospital staff only permitted two visitors at a time for the time being.
The assortment of tubes, wires, and IV lines connected to my father’s shattered body made him look like a cyborg. His pale face and arms were still spattered with blood.
He had always seemed invincible. Strong and resilient like the spindly sixty-foot Mexican fan palm trees that no monsoon storm could topple. And yet here he was, clinging to life, a fragile shell of his normal self. Seeing him like that felt like a blow to my soul. I gripped the bed railing to keep my knees from buckling.
“Edward,” my mother whispered. “Please wake up.”
His eyes fluttered then opened halfway. “Gia.” The word was barely audible from his hoarse throat.
“I’m here, too,
