Joy by Proxy

and it being okay to cry 15 years later

On the back deck, the breeze lifted his hair. I brought him out after hours of morning care - he was a trooper through all of it. Suctioning, diapering, meds, treatments, dressing, washing. Not exactly a fifteen-year-old's dream, I'm guessing.

Too tired to read, too empty for chatter, I wheeled him outside. Let creation minister to us I thought. The bird…