My father wouldn’t eat yesterday. He wouldn’t come out of his room. The fact that by noon he hadn’t had coffee, I knew the day was a very bad day for him.
I sat with him on his bed and tried to talk him into getting up. Told him we could talk or watch something together. He refused. Still no desire to eat. No desire for anything was existing.
The only thing he told me he felt, was broken. He had no other way to explain himself. I reached over and grabbed his hand and we must have sat this way forever. Unspoken love and compassion. The desire for me was to understand what he was going through, but I will never fully be able to do so.
Eventually he broke the silence and said he was ready to eat because he knew I wanted him to. I asked him if I could photograph our hands. He tilted his head down once and I snapped a shot of my present time for my future memory.