Excerpt: By this day, daddy had been in the hospital for a week following the big stroke. He’d turned 73, having to lay flat in the hospital bed. Mom and I were certainly hopeful and prayerful but the truth I kept from people who were checking on him was that I was in despair. It was hard seeing him the way he was, and in a week’s time, he seemed to get worse. I feared the road ahead and what it meant for him and what it meant for my mom.