Dad was fat all his life Obese He couldn’t do a lot of things. Walk without special help Bathe Climb stairs Sit in a normal chair Drive a normal car Sleep in a normal bed And say “I love you, son.”
To draw those words out of his dad he became a cartoonist, but that also failed.
And now that his father was dead, collapsed face down on the kitchen floor, blood seeping out of a head wound, he struggled to turn him over on his back and dipped his finger in the blood and drew a speech bubble next to his father’s head and wrote in it the famous words.