No time to stem the flood of shame that I had allowed the man to live like this, that I didn’t fix this, no time to overcome this unpleasant reality. No time. Before the priest could arrive from the village the doctor told us, quietly, our dad was gone.

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My heart was still beating fast but that could have been from the steady incline. I leaned my back against the uneven stone wall, warmed through by the late afternoon sun. I let the images in. And replayed it all in my head.

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