“Why... why are you here?” He managed to choke out. The words dragged from the lips of a man finally dropping his facade, hanging in the stale air: naked and vulnerable. The monologue of bitter hatred fleeted away. Instead in that moment I saw him for what he was: a dying man. All I could do was hold his paper-thin hand in mine.

“Because I forgive you.” The phrase coming from my own lips was foreign, but they carried unexpected truth. He dropped his head back onto the worn pillow and just looked at me. His gray eyes used to bring me so much fear and now looking into them all I saw was hurt.

Silence covered us like a blanket. Nothing and everything was being said in the rhythm of our breaths. Until his rhythm ceased to exist while my hand was in his.

I never got to say my monologue, but I gave my step-dad what he was unable to give me: comfort and love.