Daddy was admitted to the hospital, late Wednesday evening. Daddy and Kuya (in Tagalog/Filipino that means older boy; I’ve always called my brother that) spent the entire day in the ER waiting for a room.
Daddy’s room is on 2nd floor. Is it okay to try to find meaning in the little details in life or is that crazy?
Sometime during my life, I believe God says “Look who I’ve sent you? Look what I’ve shown you? Look, Gretchen, I am here.”
A room on the 2nd floor is not close to heaven? Maybe a few floors above the ground, but not heaven.
My Kuya met me at the front of the hospital entrance, the same hospital I was born, the same hospital my Mommy and Kuya worked at. I have fond memories of this place. It was my after school
day care spot. And now, it’s now the place where my Daddy can find help and rest.
I walk into this tiny
