Emily's POV
I felt the tears start to flow, but I just nodded. It wasn't until I'd found the mouth to speak that I croaked out a reply. "Can I… can I sit with him?" I asked with a breaking voice.
"Of course," Dr. Peterson said gently. "Just be careful not to disturb any of the equipment." I nodded and walked over to the bed immediately.
Getting there, I took his hand and squeezed it in mine a bit. But there was no warmth there, there was nothing to reassure me that everything could be okay and that he could get out of this. His hand was so cold and lifeless.
"Dad," I whispered with a still trembling voice. "I'm here. I'm right here with you."
He didn't respond, but I hoped he could hear me. I sat down and just held his hand. Feeling utterly hopeless. Memories of better times flooded my mind -times when he was strong and healthy and all we had to worry about was seeing what to eat the next day.