“Oh!” she gasped, “he’s gone Rick, I could see it in his eyes, he grabbed his arm, and said ‘Shirley, I’m having an attack!’ and his head fell over to his side with his eyes open.” “I know it, I could see it in his eyes, he’s gone, he’s gone… he’s gone.”

Being eternally optimistic, and having a lot of faith both in my father’s constitution, and in modern medical science, I decided to wait for the doctor. My dear friend Pastor Norfleet was there with his wife Rosemary. He consoled us while we waited.

We didn’t wait long. I wasn’t there more than 5 minutes, and the doctor came in.

He briefly introduced himself; I can’t remember his name either.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at the floor, avoiding eye contact, “His heart was just too weak, and wouldn’t respond. There is nothing more we can do.” “If you want to see him, wait here, and I’ll take you there in a minute”

We talked briefly about arrangements, but I don’t think anything mattered to us much at that point; we were just trying to kill time. It was a long walk back to the triage area where he was.