I am sad. I'm sitting in a bar reflecting on my visit with my dad. I saw him and my heart melted. I miss my dad. He is so frail. I can tell he hasn't been eating much. He refuses to eat anything that he can't eat with his hands. He even looks like a shell of the person when I last saw him.

My dad has been moved from a private room to a shared room with other a man that I know used to be a pastor. His name is Sam. Sam knows of my dad and his brother. How ironic is that? As I see my dad laying in bed staring a partition in front of him, my heart melts and weeps for his current condition. It's clear he's depressed. I just prayed. God, I never wanted him to suffer. I want him restored. It's clear he's depressed. He's actually in worse condition now than when he was in the hospital. In the hospital, he could speak albeit challenged. But he could get out complete sentences. Now, he's have difficulty making audible words. He speaking barely at a whisper. A whisper is an overstatement. Even though he's doing therapy, he's not progressing. I hoped that I'm the week and a half that if been absent that he'd be more talkative. Perhaps it's my naivety, but I wanted to see more effort. But depression is a wicked thing. I have to recall my own episodes with depression. I can't expect more from him than I did of myself when I was in the thick of it. Like with me, he's going to have to want to pull himself out of it. No one can do that for him but him.

I read PS 23 and 91 over him. His roommate kindly requested a repeat of PS 23 and John 14. As a bonus, a played Dependable God by Victor Thompson. It was a nice moment.

My dad and I just stared at each other for quite a while. I prayed in my heart for his healing. He reached for my hand often. We used to hold hands a lot. He tried to speak multiple times. But couldn't get anything out. The silence is awkward yet comforting. He holds up 2 fingers as if indicating he has 2 things to say. He clearly said that my brother was arriving tomorrow and that he wants me to help him. I said tomorrow is Monday and that I have to work so I am unable to do anything to assist my brother tomorrow. He was shocked that today is Sunday and that tomorrow is Monday.

My dad is clearly having difficulty with everything at this point. He asked where I work. I still refuse to answer any questions so I reply that I work from home and that my brother works 6 days a week and has Monday off and that is why he is able to assist on Mondays. He repeated himself. I followed suit with my previous response.

He pressed his button for CNA assistance, he looked in pain or constipated. I asked about both but he said no. I told him that I was leaving and that I'll pray for him before I leave. I prayed. Afterwards, he still has a pained look on his face. I asked if he wanted me to stay and he said no.

On my way out, I see Sam sunning himself by the courtyard door. I learned a few more things about him. He is from Mississippi, missing his left leg from the knee down (that he endearingly calls John) from complications of diabetes and a bout of gangrene. He even had some type of brain surgery due to the curved scar along his scalp. He said he had trouble with his thoughts because it.

I asked if Sam, if he remembers, to pray with my dad. He said he would. Sam loves God. His presence is appreciated. I'm truly grateful.