Thursday 9th July 1992   Home visit 14:20

“He is deeply unconscious, Mrs Hughes. I don’t think it will take very long.”
“It has all happened quickly. It will be a relief for him, doctor.”
“He seems comfortable. I don’t think he’s suffering.” My Dad sat down on the sofa.

“Do you want sugar in your tea, Dr Dennis?”
“No thank you, Mrs Hughes.”

“Of course, you never knew our son.”
“I didn’t realise that you had children.”
“Just Edward. He died before you started in the practice.” Mrs Hughes brought a leather wallet in from the kitchen. She took out an old black and white photograph and handed it to my Dad.
“Edward developed leukaemia when he was ten years old. There was no treatment in those days. He passed away two weeks after it was diagnosed.”
My Dad looked at the picture. He glanced up at Mrs Hughes.
“Jim was very close to him,” she continued. “He has been up to the cemetery every week. He hasn’t missed a single Sunday in 52 years. I suppose he’s been waiting, really.”

Waiting.