Everyone braces themselves before entering the room of someone who is terminally ill. There is literally a moment, right before you walk in, in which one equips themselves with some sort of internal armor. You paste a false smile on your face and adopt a semi-upbeat temperament. One has to be taking care all the while not to be too sullen lest the person witness that it is caused by his or her condition and feel saddened by it. Yet one must also be careful not to act too cheerful at risk of being considered uncaring and inappropriate. It's all a confusing game of balancing expressions and voice intonations. Imagine that you feel like weeping, but have to smile at all costs without a trace of apparent discomfort. I had to do that once. I strapped on the armor, pasted on the smile and played the game. I was all good-intentioned falseness. I stood there apparently content with the world, but I was sobbing inside myself. I had to control the waves of pain. I don't even know how I did it. Now, my father is gone and I wish I had wept at his side, so that he would have known that every tear was for him, that he was loved and would be missed. I really should have wept. I should haveā€¦