He had been at the center for so long, it was his last day there. No one wanted him. He was thin, riddled with fleas and worms, and had segments of porcupine quills stuck in his muzzle. There were a few puncture wounds where quills no longer occupied the holes they forged but instead where infection began to settle.
I cannot find a way to remove this thorn myself. It may never be removed, but I do know if it isn't, I need it. God doesn’t waste pain.
Insights gained from walking through the end of life with dad.
My friend, my anchor, my watchman.
Sometimes, all of these losses make me feel like playing Whac-A-Mole. I just want to whack the stages of grief and not let them surface. It’s Christmastime, and I should be giddy with joy and wish to deck my halls! #RadiantlyBroken
August 27, 2019 Finally, hospice accepted him. He needs more help. My daddy can’t speak but an occasional whisper. He tried to tell me something,…