October 1978
Thy Will, Not Mine
Her father's death taught her the true meaning of acceptance
FOUR WORDS have kept coming into my mind ever since I lost my father, a few short days ago. "Shall we dance, Daddy?" That's what I often used to say to my alcoholic father to get him to bed. I couldn't carry him, and he couldn't walk. So we danced--or, at least, it resembled dancing--down the hall to the bedroom, where he would fall across the bed and pass out.
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