My First Lie
Dec 20th, 2016 by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
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My stepfather had Parkinson’s disease. Before he died, he was one percent of the person he had been. It’s cruel to say that at fifty percent he was a kinder person.
I found him once, on his back, like an upturned ladybird in the garden. I was now a stranger. I helped him up and in a moment of rare clarity, he asked, “When will this end?” He was all ears, his face ready enlightenment.
I lied to him once. It was my first ever real lie. “Soon,” I said.
Four years on, at his funeral my lie became true.
From Guest Contributor Alice Kibbe
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