I'd come up to see if Dad was ready for a cup of tea, maybe a bowl of oatmeal too. He was in bed, under the down comforter, green winter cap on his head. He was looking better, not so pale, eyes clear.
He said, "I've had an interesting revelation."
"What is that?" I said.
"It's come to me that it doesn't really matter if I live or die," he said.
"It's freeing," he said.
"Okay. So," I said, "it doesn't really matter whether you live or die. Freeing. Okay."
We looked at each other for a moment.
"Okay, so what kind of tea would you like?" I asked.
"Chamomile sounds good," he replied.