In any case, Dad was always aware. “You know what I think about people who make themselves big by making others feel small?” he would ask, placing a platter in front of me.Yeah? “I’d look up, my eyes glistening.”Not much, my dear.
And in some way, it was always beneficial.Her father cleans our toilets.
My father advised me that I should be proud of my honest job. I trusted him. And sometime during my sophomore year, I silently vowed to make him proud enough to forget all of those hurtful remarks.
Dad received a cancer diagnosis last year. To be honest, he continued to work for as long as the doctors permitted—longer than they desired.
On some nights, I would see him leaning against the supply closet, appearing even more worn out.
“Don’t give me that look, honey,” he would reply, straightening up as soon as he noticed me. I’m alright.
However, we both realized that he wasn’t doing well.
