I had a man last week who just lost his father and had lost his mother a few months before. He tells me the loss of his mother was almost unbearable; the grief of losing his father is almost more than he can stand. I am alone in the world for the first time in my life; if I fall, if I fail, there is no one to help me up; if I do good, there is no one to care; it is lonely as hell. I am a grown man with a hole in the middle of my heart, the phone in my hand, my dad’s name staring at me to call, knowing he isn’t there. The hardest part of the loss is I know he is gone forever and ever; never will I see him again. I said nothing. I wasn’t close to my father, but I felt the loss; I could feel the hurt this man had for a father that was a real man. I worried some about leaving his dad’s house with him there if he was strong enough to live, but I realized that if his dad were that strong, the young man would be fine, I hope. “I never leave home or anywhere that I don’t say I love you in case it is my last words.”