My friends compliment my father for being sweet. Though he rarely speaks, and when he does, he is so soft-spoken it is barely recognizable, he is accepted right away as a kind man. I call his quiet demeanor the sweet silence. Recently, as I see him continue to lose weight on each of my trips home, I often worry that I won’t see him again. He is always on my mind, as I make my way back to the city, as I trudge along New York’s rainy streets, as I remind myself I am loved by him.
In that sweet silence of his, I find the purest form of comfort and hope to forever remember it, this quiet loving.