It was a perfect death And almost the perfect childbirth. When my father, George, died hours after I was in the hospital, I was born my son Aidan, I was not fully aware that my belief system would turn upside down. I still do not know the meaning of life or what happens when we die, but the only thing I know now is: We are more than our bodies.
My father was first -class as much as parents went. It was a kind of father who lifted the thermostat high on a cold winter night, shot the grill, put short pants and a shirt, and pretended to be the summer. The man who told his daughter was “she should throw like a girl” because girls can do anything that boys can do and do it better. It was the type of man who spent hours with his five -year -old daughter, and the leaves were calculated just to spend time.
This level of attachment and adoration made the painful painful to die slowly. He has been refusing to perceive and physical for nearly a decade because of what his theoretical doctors had done was an atrocity. I was pregnant with my second child. I was always difficult. It was in my DNA and I spent nearly 20 years of this moment as a news product that interacts with the most unexpected conditions and is often volatile. I said to myself I can deal with this.
At 5.45 am on a scheduled day C sectionThe plan that I produced at this moment that started in the movement: I was guided by my teeth, and I finished mobilizing my bag, and made our three -year -old Finnish daughter ready for the sponsorship of us to take it to and from school. My mother will stay with her in the afternoon in our apartment in Brooklyn. Walker the dog was dealing with the Russian black hole, one hundred pounds. The best friend of my father, Armond, and the closest of my mother, Jin, will watch my father in his living facility with the help of Washington, DC. I even had a nurse in the residence you send to regular updates.
By 6:30 am, my husband and I were in Uber and I went to the hospital. I tried to call my father. But in the past forty -eight hours, he had been greatly rejected, and he barely opened his eyes. I was dismayed to ask my mother to leave his bed alongside arrival and help with the Finn, but I needed her. A week ago, my daughter was really sick and fell in the emergency room after she was seized on the fever. It was after a good minutes, and the doctors completed that this was more common to think about it, but he feared hell from us and we needed all hands on the deck.
The last time I spoke to my father was three days ago; We are the face. He had a problem to speak, and my mom continued impatiently to try to put words in his mouth, “George, George, can you hear them?” I asked him, “Are you tired, Dad?” He said, “Yes” barely nodded. I looked through the camera directly in his eyes. I said, “I love you, Dad.” He said, “I love you, Cole.”
