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So, Dad passed away right after my birthday, February 22nd, at 9 a.m. Honestly, it’s probably the worst birthday “gift” I’ve ever gotten. But at the same time, I also feel relieved that he’s finally free from being sick and bedridden.
That morning I already had a bad feeling. I woke up at 6, checked my phone, and saw two missed calls , one from my mom and one from my little brother. When I called my mom back, she said Dad was in critical condition and might be waiting for me. I didn’t even think twice. I washed my face and drove straight to my dad’s place, 48 kilometers away, about an hour’s drive. The whole time, my mind was running through the worst-case scenarios, and I was trying to prepare my heart in case I had to let him go.
I got there around 8 a.m. A lot of our extended family was already gathered around his bed. Most of them were praying. I sat next to him and started whispering my prayers. I told him I was ready to let him go, and that I’d take care of Mom. I also told him how I truly believe he was a good husband and a good father to both of us.
But then my walls just crumbled. I burst into tears. The selfish part of me wasn’t ready to lose him. It still feels like yesterday that we were talking about cars, work, retirement, just normal everyday stuff. I wasn’t ready. Not at all.
And then he passed away about an hour after I arrived. Mom was crying, but she didn’t call out his name. Maybe she was relieved too, that Dad wasn’t in pain anymore after those really hard three years. We took care of everything that day, and he was buried on that same cloudy day at 1 p.m.
It rained in the evening. My vision felt blurry, my throat hurt, and my chest felt like it was going to burst. I wanted to cry so badly.
Thank you for everything, Dad. Your work in this world is finally done. I’ll take care of Mom. Rest easy, and keep watching over us from afar. I love you so much.
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