Part 2
The surgery took six hours.
When I woke up, half of my face was covered in bandages.
I couldn’t breathe through my nose. I couldn’t smile without pain.
Doris was sitting beside me, still holding my hand like she never let go.
“You’re still you,” she whispered.
Three days later, my son brought Katie to the hospital.
I heard her little shoes in the hallway first.
My heart was pounding so hard the nurse looked at the monitor.
Then she stopped in the doorway.
She looked at the bandages.
She looked at the tubes.
For a long moment, she didn’t move.
I wanted to turn my face away.
Then Katie walked to my bed, climbed up very slowly, and looked at me with her big serious eyes.
“Grandpa,” she said, “does it hurt?”
I told her only a little.
She thought about it. Then she leaned forward and gently touched her nose to my forehead, right above the bandage.
“Eskimo kiss,” she said. “We just have to do it up here for a while.”
Doris started crying. My son turned toward the window.
And me… I couldn’t stop shaking.
Before she left, Katie gave me a drawing she made in the car.
It was me, with a giant white bandage, wearing a red cape.
At the top, in crooked letters, she wrote:
“MY GRANDPA IS A SUPERHERO.”
The months after were long.
More surgeries. Skin from my forehead to rebuild my nose. Stitches. Scars.
My face is different now.
But every night, Katie still runs to me before bed.
Last week, she touched my new nose very carefully and said,
“Grandpa… this is still my favorite part of you.”
To everyone who prayed for an old mailman that night… thank you.
Your prayers worked.
If you believe love sees past every scar, please send Eugene a ❤️