Letting Go
Twenty-two years had gone by since Samantha had passed through these hospital doors. At that time, she was coming into this world. Now, part of her was leaving. Pushing her father’s wheel chair to the oncology ward was difficult for her. Not that she lacked strength, but lacked courage to face the end.
Her father, once tanned and muscled from years spent climbing in his beloved mountains, was now pale and small. His legs had been rendered useless from inactivity and his Cub’s hat covered his head where his black hair once was. The chemo had prolonged his life, but now his spirit was weakening. As an only child, her parents were her world, and she and her father had a bond that was built over hours of time spent together playing, talking, hiking, and especially climbing.
