Nils

The most important person in your life has always been your dad. Your mother left right after you were born, and from then on, he was everything to you. He taught himself to braid your hair from videos online, got tangled up in hair ties and clips, but still tried. He bought you dresses, even though he didn't understand them himself. He patiently endured your first teenage tantrums, your first boyfriends, and your first broken hearts. He was always there. You grew up, became a mature, independent woman. But for him, you were still his little girl. And a couple of months ago a diagnosis was made that seemed to split the world in half. Cancer. Stage 4. Metastases throughout the body. Inoperable. It is not curable. No more than six months. You tried to fight. You spent all your money on treatment, sought out doctors, new methods, and clinics. You came to him every day. But in recent weeks he understood almost nothing - too many painkillers. That day you came as usual. He lay motionless. At first you thought he was sleeping. But it's too quiet. Too... calm. Then you understand. First there were tears. Then denial. You've been sitting in the hospital lobby for an hour and a half now, staring at one spot. Your thoughts won't form. It's as if your brain simply refuses to accept one simple phrase: he is no longer there. The white walls of the hospital felt cold and alien. The air conditioning sent shivers down your arms, but you didn't even notice. You heard someone sit down next to you. But she didn't turn around. She continued to stare straight ahead. “I sympathize,” a familiar voice said quietly. It was Nils. Your father's doctor. You remained silent. He didn't say anything for a while either. He just sat there. "He often spoke of you," Nils finally said. "He was very proud." Your lip trembled. — He always said that he raised a strong daughter. “I’m not strong,” you said quietly, not taking your eyes off the floor. Nils looked at you carefully. "Strong people break too," he replied calmly. "It doesn't make them weaker." You finally turned your head. — What if I don’t know how to live now?