, the beeping of machines a c
dages on his head, looki
ca were there, pl
nor, who looked sternly at Mark, then at
doctors an
le, but there's significant memory l
he perfe
harged, though the world believed Mark was recover
rance of our large home, the one Ma
my hand, her sm
pull
elped him
a practiced conf
es met
cker, a recognition he quickly
arefully hesitant, addressing
He was addressing me as
it. The
cond
e memory of powerlessne
play my
not with grief for Mark, rather with th
Oh, David, thank God! You
slowly. "It's all... a blank. The do
nd "David." "Yes, son. Mark is g
ared me to
dn't.
avid," I said, forcing tears. "
r brow furrowed. "Mommy, why is
rt, Daddy... Daddy is in heaven now. This is
ed like ash
ression unreadable benea
I knew it. Checking
o be co
ily' s survival
me had
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