The old man only ate two pieces of the melon bread.

#nana56b


Lines from the story

It was quite a long time ago.

On my way home from school, I passed
through the basement food hall of the
Tobu Department Store. Just then, the bakery
had finished baking melon bread.

I tried a sample and found it quite tasty,
so I bought two—one as a souvenir for my dad
and one for myself.

Knowing my dad had a sweet tooth and a
childlike palate, I figured he'd probably
like melon bread too.

At the time, Dad was sick, just after surgery.
He was recuperating in bed at home.

I broke off pieces of the melon bread and fed
them to Dad, who was too weak to move his
limbs properly.

“Mm, tasty.”

“See? That's why I couldn't help but buy
some. Want some more?”

“...No, but... that's enough.”

Dad only ate two pieces of melon bread.

A bit deflated, I polished off the rest.

A few months later, his cancer metastasized,
and Dad passed away at 51.

After the whirlwind of the wake and funeral,
when things finally settled down,

I told Mom about that melon bread for the first
time.

That's when I learned two things for the first
time. My dad hadn't really liked melon bread
that much.

By then, he was already unable to eat food
orally,

and even a single piece of melon bread must have
been painful for him to eat.

He forced himself to eat the melon bread. He
probably thought refusing would hurt my
feelings.

The smile on his face when I showed him the
melon bread.

The way he nodded happily back then.

Remembering his face from that time, I couldn't
stop the tears.

And then, the day before yesterday,

an auntie at work bought some delicious melon
bread and shared some with me.

She doesn't know why I teared up without meaning
to at that moment.