‘The only hope our son has now is prayer’

A PAIR of brown eyes stare, unseeing, at the hospital ceiling. A father leans over his brain-dead son and points to a graze on his chin.

“I nicked him there this evening when I was shaving him,” he says to his wife.

He kisses his son softly on the cheek and apologises for the clumsy cut. “Sorry Denis, I didn’t mean to cut you. I love you very much.”