She held his hand as he lay pale against the sheets. Her Uncle Lamb. The man who raised her, loved her, taught her. Friend, Father, Teacher, Mentor.
She would miss him so much.
He stirred against the pillow, head rolling from left to right.
“What can I get you, Uncle?” She cupped his face gently, hoping he would look at her, see her.
“Have you seen my pack, Girl? I can’t go without my pack.”
Her eyes filled with tears. His pack. It was the last thing he picked up when he left for a dig. He carried it everywhere, was never without it.
“It’s here, Uncle Lamb. Right next to the bed.” And it was. She reached down, lifted it up, set it in his line of vision. “See? Right here, ready to go.”
“Ready,” he said, with a sigh. “I’m ready.”
“Uncle Lamb!” she said sharply.
His glazed eyes looked over at her. And for a brief moment, he was there, conscious, focused, present. “I love you. Thank you for everything. I’ll miss you.”
“Love you, too, Girl. You were a good daughter,” he said, smiling.
Tori