in the ordinary sense.
He felt more like the father I had never had.
And sometimes, when I saw the tenderness in his expression, I wondered whether he had come to think of me as the daughter he never had.
By our fifth year together, his health had begun to fail badly.
Every morning, I brought him coffee exactly as he liked it.
When walking became difficult, I helped him into his wheelchair.
We spent time in the garden each day, talking about Emily, the flowers, and ordinary things while
