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My Father’s Feet: Jazz, Hospice & Saying Goodbye to My Dad

For twenty years, Jeff’s father wore a pinstriped Brooks Brothers suit every day, riding the Metro-North from Connecticut to an office on 45th and First. Somewhere in that daily friction, his trousers wore the hair from his legs and left his feet improbably smooth. As a boy, Jeff would rub them on the couch after dinner, often reluctantly. It was the simplest pleasure his father knew. Decades later, those same feet are swollen with edema at the end of a hospice bed in Miami.

In this episode, Jeff turns from fatherhood to being a son. He spends a week at his dad’s bedside with his brother…

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