A couple of years ago my father was seriously injured in an accident. He was paralyzed from the neck down and, a month later, died in the hospital. During that month I visited him nearly every day, for hours at a time, doing things for him like massaging the top of his head or just talking. The last time I was doing this, just before his death, he said to me, "You know I love you, don't you?" I didn't say anything, I just nodded. I should have said, "I love you too, Dad," but I didn't. I couldn't. But my father died without me telling him how much I loved him and respected him.
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