The monitors at my side would act as a reminder to my father’s condition. My eyes would follow in suit as I would find him adorned with an oxygen mask and enough chords to tangle himself within if he were to make any sudden movements. But in the last six hours while I had waited for him to awaken with the news he had suffered another heart attack in the back of my mind, the sound of these obnoxious and even vexing machines would act as a guarantee that he was well. My hand had not released his within this time as I had kept my head against him, just listening to the sound of his pulse with my own ear and only reclining backwards whenever a nurse would come in to check on him, only to return on his chest once again.
Some time after dawn I would find the door to open at my side and find my
