The way to go

Listening to NPR (no I’m not a long hair, communist, pinko, non-coagulating bleeding heart liberal) but this was good nonetheless. The story was of a woman who’s father was in a hospice care facility. He had been languishing for months. Reading the paper to him, she mentioned a jazz concert being held that night. His eyes lit up. He loved jazz, particularly this group. “Do you want to go?” popped out. “Yes!” She dressed him, put makeup on to hide his palor, she wheeled him out of the hospice, past the protests of the attendents who said it would kill him. At the concert hall it was sold out. She banged on the door till someone came, explained the situation and they wheeled him backstage where he got to meet the band. It was the first time she had seen him happy in months. He died somewhere towards the end of the show. He was smiling. Like dying on your feet rather than living on your knees. Good on ya, gal, good on ya.

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One Response to “The way to go”

  1. ellocogringo Says:

    Ah! to die with my blunted teeth in the throat of an asshole. That would be my way to go.
    watl

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