Gone

I remember the last time I talked to him face to face. He was lying in a hospital bed. He looked very weak. She was seated next to him and we were seated across from them. The conversation turned to my future. I offered him my goals. He shot them down. Too much insurance, not enough money. Those were the two answers he had for me. As we left the hospital, I remember feeling my blood boil at how he'd just made me look like a fool whether he meant to or not. I remember my mom speaking poorly of him on the car ride home. I knew it was wrong, but I added to the heated conversation.
Two years later. I never got to tell him about urban planning. I wonder what would have been wrong with it.