Hear you me

5:30 a.m. is too early to be crawling down the interstate in the dark. 33 degrees is too cold to just be wearing a T-shirt. 48-years-old is too young to die.

My Pop will be undergoing a high-risk heart surgery in an hour. His second in a year and a half. He and Mom are bickering slightly about where to park because we are a little tardy, but this is not a source of tension. They ride hands clasped. There's a nervousness in Mom's breathing.

A portico. My turn to find parking while they enter and check him in for the procedure. I put out a hand for a tip like a valet. There's a chuckle, but the look in Pop's eyes do not match this.

If you are a praying person, I ask for those today. If not, well wishes from those with good karma are also happily received.