My lips brush across his unshaven cheek. His trembly hands grip tight to mine. I lean over his bed and press my face to his. It is moist from his ever present tears.

He whispers in my ear,”I’ve loved you for a long, time.” Then takes a shallow breath and says ” and I’m glad you’re back”.

I pat his swollen body gently, he’s been in such pain.

I smile brightly as I can to assure him of our hope. I manage to mutter something in response like ” I’m so glad to be back” but it’s hard to know what I said for sure.

He reluctantly turned loose of my hand and I left the once inviting sunroom, now a makeshift hopice.

I walk past the tray full of medicine bottles, adult diapers and antiseptic creams. I dodge the furniture that’s been rearranged to suit his needs.

I go into his bedroom he shared with his wife of many years, her home-going only a few months before. I pull the door closed to the small bathroom that they shared for 55 years, in the house they built to raise a family.

I sat on the cold floor and let go of the tears that I had held back all week.

I had walked away from his son- separating a family from their long awaited little girl. I moved her away , ultimately creating a distance that was hard to overcome.

But his love for her, his love for me never wavered. If he was mad , he never showed it. He reached out to me for a hug and a kiss on the cheek every other weekend and on holidays. This once tall, strong man we called Papa… he made his family proud to carry his name. He will be remembered long after he is gone by all that knew him.

But today, in this heap of brokenness, it kills me to watch him suffer. To hear his moanings. To listen to his prayers, begging the Lord to take him.

Lord, I cry out, he has prepared for that day. Take him in your time. We will never be ready to let him go. But we will..

Knowing we have been blessed to share his life and the name of Davis.

Arlin Davis.. we are blessed.