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Have you ever eaten hospital cafeteria food? It turns out it’s pretty good. Especially the chocolate pudding.

During Nana’s surgery, we all went to get something to eat. My dad and I both ate pudding. My mom had a sandwich, but she was staring at it more than eating it. No one said anything for a while.

Finally I looked up.

“Mom? Dad? I’ve decided to end my strike.”

“That’s wonderful news, honey!” my mom exclaimed.

My dad kept working on his pudding. He’d barely said a word since we got to the hospital, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Starting tomorrow,” I went on. “There’s the first baseball summer league tryout, and I want to go. And I want to go to orchestra rehearsal, too. I want to concentrate on baseball and cello. Those are the things I love and those are the things I want to do. And I know how lucky I am that I get to do them.”

I waited, thinking my dad would say something, but he didn’t.

“And there are a lot of other things I might want to do that I don’t even know about yet. Like work in a kitchen supply store, for example.”

My dad still didn’t look up, but I think I saw him smile just a little bit at the reference to his childhood.

“And Junior EMTs,” said my mother.

“And Junior EMTs,” I agreed.

“But I shouldn’t have to do all that stuff I don’t want to do,” I went on. “Life’s too short for that, just like Nana says.” I stopped, trying not to cry. “And how can you argue with a woman whose heart is working overtime?”

Mom smiled. I had one last thing to say.

“Plus, I think we can all agree that this is going to look pretty awesome on my college application.”

My dad finally looked up.

“Now you’re talking my language,” he said.

I laughed, because I wasn’t sure what else to do. Then I waited. My dad put down his spoon, picked up his tray, and threw out his garbage. Then he refilled his coffee cup and got back on line for some more food. I think he was stalling. Finally, he came back over and sat down.

“The day I left for college, it was raining,” he said. “The drive should have taken three hours, but it took five. My mom drove the whole way, with my dad doing the navigating. I sat in the back.” He took a sip of coffee. “I think we said maybe ten words to each other the whole way up.”

“How come?” I asked.

He shook his head. “It was the biggest day of my life, but it was almost too big. Nobody could think of anything to say.”

I sat, waiting, knowing he wasn’t done.

“Finally we got there, my mom makes my bed, my dad puts a few posters on the wall. Then, it was time for them to get going. None of us wanted a long drawn-out thing, though. So I hugged my mom, and we said our I-love-yous and goodbyes. Then I hugged my dad, but not too hard, because he’d already lost a lot of weight by then. He was still quiet, but I couldn’t let him go without saying something. So I said, ‘I’ll make you proud, dad, I promise.’”

My father looked up at the hospital ceiling—maybe through the ceiling, actually, up to the sky and beyond, maybe to his own father.

“Dad just looked at me,” he said. “Then he shook his head once and said, ‘You already have, son. You already have.’”

My dad stopped for a second. My mom took his hand and squeezed it.

Then he turned and looked straight at me.

“I don’t want to say I’m wrong and you’re right,” he said. “That might be the case, but I’m not ready to say that just yet.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “But you know how I always talk about how finding your ‘thing’ is so important?” I nodded. Did I ever! That’s how this whole craziness started.

“Well, maybe you’ve already found it,” my dad said. “Because sticking up for what you believe in is the greatest thing of all.”

My heart felt huge in my chest, and I wasn’t sure I could talk. But I managed to say two words. “Thanks, Dad.”

He let out a big, exhausted sigh. “So now, back to the matter at hand. I tried to make it back to the TV show to say this on the air, but your nana beat me to it. You shouldn’t have to do things you have absolutely no interest in. I can’t argue with that.” He looked at my mom, then back at me. “But the things you are interested in, I want you to pursue with all your heart.” He held out his hand. “Fair enough?”

We shook. “Fair enough.”

My dad hugged me, and I hugged him back. Then he pointed at his tray, and I noticed he’d just bought two more chocolate puddings.

“You can’t have enough pudding,” he said, giving me one.

I dug in. It was the best pudding I’d ever eaten.

A few minutes later the door to the cafeteria opened, and we saw Dr. Worsfold coming toward us with a serious expression on her face. My parents stood up. I felt a nervous jolt.

“Mrs. Strong,” the doctor said.

My mom took my father’s hand. “Yes?”

Dr. Worsfold smiled, and the world relaxed.

“Your mother is asking for a tongue sandwich.”