After my wife died, I didn’t see my daughter very often, but we talked every day. On my 80th birthday, all I wanted to do was see her, so I drove over to her apartment, expecting to surprise her. When she opened the door, she appeared apprehensive and surprised. “Dad, what are you here for?” She inquired, her voice weak. I smiled and added, “I just wanted to be with you on my birthday.” Her countenance shifted, and she paused before saying, “Dad, you cannot remain. I have a lot going on. I’m sorry, but now is not a good moment.
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