Trigger

It’s becoming more and more difficult for my father to speak, and harder to understand him. “I love you” flows easily, often followed by a kiss on the hand.  His moans and mounting pain are almost unbearable to witness, yet somehow I endure them, hoping that my presence provides some comfort.  I told him it’s okay to let go, and he looked me straight in the eye and said, “where am I going?”  “The biggest and best adventure.  Soon you’ll have all the answers.  You’ll know the meaning of life.  Are you ready?”  “Yep.”  Then he moaned, eyes squeezed tight, “help me, help me, help me.”  “Anything, tell me what I can do to ease your pain.”  He lifted his left index finger and released his thumb like a trigger.