, 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