I just… stood there, in the hallway, outside the room where my father finally stopped breathing, and the first thing I felt wasn't grief, not really, but this sharp, HOT ANGER. Like, a decade. Ten years of... of nothing, really, just watching him fade, and now that it's over, now that the nurses can finally stop checking in and Mrs. Henderson from down the road can stop asking me about 'how he's doing' every single time I pick up milk at the general store, I just feel so incredibly, utterly cheated. Is that awful? Does everyone feel this? Because all I can think about is all the time *I* lost, waiting for an ending that already happened years ago.