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I sit in Math class just across the hall from the office. Every time the telephone rings my mind stops and waits for the intercom to click. After a few seconds I resume my work with part of my mind still listening for the phone. How long had it been? How many trips to the hospital and hours spent waiting? Each time he gets weaker. It can’t last much longer. Mamma can’t keep going. She is so exhausted. He wants her with him 24 hours a day and for months she has hardly slept at all. I struggle between wanting him to live and just wanting it all to be over.
Then the call comes. I quickly walk to the office at the principal’s summons and reach for the phone he hands me. “We’re taking Daddy to the hospital,” I hear Mamma say. This time she adds, “I don’t think we will bring him home again.” As I hand the phone back the principal speaks words meant to offer comfort, but my mind can’t receive them. I mumble my thanks and walk slowly back to class.
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