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Father's Ailing Health

Nathan

"How is he today?" I asked softly, resting a hand on Elder Vera's slumped shoulder.

She shook her head wearily, face etched deep with lines of worry and grief. "The fever continues burning unchecked. His spirit dims further each time he wakes."

I swallowed thickly, nodding. After months battling this mysterious wasting sickness, Father had finally taken a sharp turn last night, his stubborn vitality flagging. Now we raced against time to save him before the traditional remedies proved useless.

But desperation made my next request no less distasteful. "Vera, please give us the room. I must speak privately with my father."

Her expression clouded with concern. But she patted my hand in acquiescence before slipping away to grant us privacy. Father's rheumy eyes blinked open at her departure, wandering until they settled unsteadily on me. I settled gingerly on the bedside chair and clasped his limp hand in both of mine.

"Father, I'm so sorry to disturb your rest," I began gently. "B
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