Séamus Murphy-Mitchell

Apr 24, 2024 | joylandmagazine.com | Séamus Murphy-Mitchell |Michelle Lyn King

All the way to the hospital, through its various wings, and along its warren of corridors, I hope that my grandfather is dead, for his own sake. But as soon as I push open the door, I see him at the end of the ward sitting up in the narrow bed looking right at me. He is bruised around the face and hands, but behind the sticky residue of his glaucoma drops, his eyes are bright and follow me keenly as I make my way to his bedside. “You had a little accident, Joe,” I observe.