I got in the car and a few seconds later Graham came. I sped down the driveway
and we left.
We arrived at the hospital about ten minutes later.
“Gregory Young’s room, please.” I asked impatiently.
“Room 230.” the nurse said. We ran to the elevator and I pounded on the
second floor button. I leaned against the wall of the elevator and clenched my fists in
anger. Why was all this happening to me all at once?
We reached the second floor and I started a sprint down the hallway. I found
room 230 and peered inside.
I saw my dad lying motionless on the bed. There were more tubes than I had
imagined, and my eyes started to well up with tears.
“Is he concious?” I asked, my mother, without looking at her.
“Yes, he can speak a little.” she replied between sobs.
“Dad?” I asked, beginning to cry. I wrapped my fingers in his as he opened
his eyes.
“My baby girl.” he whispered, in a very quiet, monotone voice.
“It’s okay dad, it’s okay. I’m right here.” I replied, trying to calm him. His eyes
glanced down at my belly and he quickly closed his eyes.
“Grandkids.” he managed to sputter. I broke down completely when he said
that one word, knowing he would never see his grandkids.
“Right here, Daddy.” I said, pointing too my belly. I took his hand and placed it
on my stomach. The babies kicked, and my dad closed his eyes again. The heart
rate monitor slowed to a stop, and I knew my dad was gone forever.