I Skipped My Husband's Funeral

Summary

My father was sitting alone on a sterile plastic chair in the emergency room lobby, clutching his mangled, bloody forearm, when I finally sprinted through the double doors.

"Sweetheart, don't worry," he said, his voice trembling as he tried to offer me a reassuring smile. "I'm just an old fool. I couldn't figure out how to work that high-tech check-in kiosk. The machine wouldn't respond when I pressed it, and the folks waiting behind me in line started getting upset..."