I used to think winking was his brain's way of taking a snapshot. I looked at his sunken eyes as they fought to stay open, as they winked at me every now and again to assure me that he was invincible. I looked at his skin, which, in spite of its olive color, looked pale. I looked at my dad as he sat there hunched over, rubbing his opposite elbows with calloused hands, and cracking fingers. 'Well you've been just tired for a long time.'Ĭoughing, and then quiet. 'Are you kidding me right now? Look at yourself.' 'It's really nothing, Beje.' My dad calls me Beje, which he got from shortening the initials of my first and middle names: Brandon Joseph. My dad sat down on the edge of the hospital bed, shivering and occasionally coughing.Ĭough. After taking his vitals, she escorted us to our room and told us the doctor would be right in. A different nurse appeared and told us to follow her. The nurse dialed a number and spoke hurriedly into the phone. 'My dad's having a heart attack, and you need to see him right now.' 'Beje,' he said, as we walked to the front desk, 'just let me handle this. My dad has a family history of heart stuff, so when the chest pains started around midnight three years ago, my mom made me take him to the hospital. 'Where others see but the Dawn coming over the hill, I see the sons of God shouting for joy.' -William Blake