Easing her dad’s bedroom door open, she set the tray on the bedside table, opened the blinds for him and helped him to ease himself up as she placed the pillows behind him for support. She leaned in to kiss his cheek, “How was your night, Dad?”
His lips moved to form a smile. “Just fine.” His voice was always gravely now, the deepness she remembered was still there, but softer and subdued.
“I want you to eat the egg and at least one piece of the toast.” She settled the tray on his lap, flipping the little stands down on either side of his legs.
Sitting in the rocker placed next to his bed, Marlee reached for the bowl of oatmeal she’d put on the tray. He could eat on his own, but sharing meals was something they’d always done, so she preferred to sit with him and eat her breakfast. Later she’d help him into the wheel chair so he could have some independence to move about their home.
While she ate, she tried to record the details of her father. The cancer had aged him, well, the treatment really. Finished with another round of chemo, he was slowly regaining some strength, but still needed to put more weight on. Marlee cooked all of his favorites, attempting to entice him to eat more. She’d be lucky if he finished the egg and half a piece of toast, but she’d take it.