95

I'm having a talk with him now as I sit eating my bowl of mixed berries. I invited him for breakfast but as usual he'd rather get one of his breakfast sandwiches from Hardees. It's not a particular discerning conversation but it's one of substance, or I'd at least like to believe it that way. We kicked around when he was last in the hospital and time was fleeting for him. He wasn't particular to the hospital food so I would bring him those fat induced, grease filled, artery clogging sandwiches. He remembered going there with "Whiskers" in tow and they would venture to Oak Knoll Park, he sitting on the bench reminiscing about life and missed opportunities or failed ventures; "Whiskers" off chasing squirrels. We didn't have many of these while I was growing up and most of the time they were particularly one sided....he talked and I had to listen. I'm looking at him across the table from me and we're square up-eye to eye. But, I'm calling on him now as I want his comfort. I want to lay my head in his lap and above all, I need his embrace. I want him to tell me it's going to be alright. I want him to tell that he had direct contact with Jesus and He said my little boy is going to pull through this. I want to him to use whatever pull he has in heaven to make this disease go away. I'm hoping that he had coffee with Jude and Francis for I know they have influence of lost causes and animals and that with their influence as being long time tenants and most importantly have prime real estate in that section of heaven where all the creatures of God's kingdom frolic and play and that they're not ready for one more. I want them to tell me my loan has been extended and I can keep him longer.

Dad, please put in those good words for my Dancer, and oh, by the way....Happy 95th!! The breakfast sandwich is on me. Thanks for listening. But somehow, I think you knew that.
PS, tell Mom I love her!
Your loving son,