My father often tells me he wants to die. He says it's time for him to go, that’s he's been around too long. It's odd, because part of me wants him to go too. This is no life for him, living in the twilight of half memories. But he is the only really close family I have left. You see, I'm an only child. After him, that's it.
The other day, when he said he wanted to die, I told him that the problem was that he had exercised his entire life, and was in great shape.
He looked at me, raised his finger, and said: "Nest time around, I,m going to stay in bed!"
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