The Tuxedo Goodbye: A Father’s Last Dance Before the Monitor Went Silent

the Dance

The monitor went flat last night.

But grief doesn’t.

Grief keeps breathing even after the person stops.

It breathes in the hiss of the automatic doors when I leave the hospital at 2:17 a.m. It breathes in the sting of antiseptic still stuck in my nostrils. It breathes in the way my shoes squeak on the hallway floor like I’m walking through somebody continue reading …