The Tulip Driven Life

This is a fictional piece that I wrote up. Hopefully it demonstrates the comfort we can have if our parents are believers. Next time I want to write up a piece on a more challenging issue- finding comfort in the death of a parent who isn't a believer. But for now, this. I took one last look at the old man. His beleaguered body lie flat on his bed, propped up slightly by the pillow he always used. He stared vacantly at whatever was in his line of sight from the angle his head was positioned. The white sheet covering his body up to his chest gave the impression he was already dead. But dead he was not- the slight heaving of his belly made the sheet rise and drop with his shallow breaths.                 I stood there, eyes red and heavy, at this point due to exhaustion and not tears. I had long accepted the fact he was dying; now I just wished he would hurry up and go. Everything that needed to be said between the two of us was said, and that was satisfaction enough. Now