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I saw him lying in the hospital bed
He looked small and shrivelled
I recognised his feet first
sticking out from the covers
They looked just the same -
Those feet he always powdered
'Your father loves his feet'
Mum used to say.
Then the nurse drew the curtain
And I saw his face
And he was not the same
His eyes were empty, and dull
With none of the mischievous twinkle
That used to embarrass Mum.
'Malcolm, stop it! What will people think? '
I kissed his cheek.
They'd taken his teeth out.
He looked awful.
I'd put on some makeup. He liked me to.
'My daughter's on the stage'. he used to boast.
'I look after all the Melbourne Theatre Company.'
He was a good dentist.
'How are you feeling, Dad?
Are you in a lot of pain? '
'Not really, more discomfort'
His voice came from far away
'Can I get you anything? '
'I don't think so'
I'm just so bloody tired.'
He closed his eyes.
Alison Cassidy
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