The smell of hand sanitizer hung thick in the air; I was the last person out of the small darkened hospital room. It would seem that I am one for self punishment, but I had to take one last look at my father’s body. The strongest man I knew, was now just an empty pale shell of himself. His skin, a bluish green tint, pulled so tight on his face from the daily dialysis; it was stuck in the beginnings of a perpetual yawn. Both eye sunken in, the lids clung to the lifeless surface. Only a tiny rim of green could be seen around the endless black pupils that now dominated both orbs. A fading trail from his left eye to the pillow was the only sign of moisture that seemed to be left in his shriveled body. His nose, now slightly purple on the tip, long and pointed, lead to his forehead that held no lines. Which made it seem as if he was made of porcelain. I ran my hand over his short brown hair, that had just been cut to the way he liked it. Cold seemed to radiate from his skin. The question mark shaped scar from the brain surgery just a month before, could barely be seen on the right side his head. I couldn’t help but wonder what the fight for the last month had seemed like from his point of view; as I head out the door saying my last goodbyes to a man who was already gone.