Next week will be my first born’s birthday. Followed by my second child’s. They are almost 3 weeks apart. Both are born on Summer time during the Olympic games. I remember taking care of infants while watching games on TV. Both of them also have Barrack Obama as their first President when they were born.
Every child’s birthday is special. And for every parent, it is a moment to celebrate and commemorate the day they received their special gift from heaven.
It is ironic for me. I am very happy to celebrate my children’s birthdays but at the same time I feel sad because it brings back the most painful memory I had on my journey. This started last year in 2015. It all began from my first born’s birthday and ended on my second child’s birthday.
I am sure people have forgotten. They have moved on and lived their lives. But as for us, we are not sure how. We will always feel and remember as long as we are here.
July 19 was my first born’s birthday. It was the last time I had a Facetime chat with my Father. Up to now I remember the conversation that we had. His words I can still hear.
July 21. He was sent to the hospital and got intubated. He was unconscious for 3 days. He woke up on the third night and was terrified with his condition. He could not speak anymore. He did not like the tube and the wires. He and my brother had a moment together. My brother told him I was coming home. And he nodded. He knew I was coming home. But early dawn the next day…
July 25 He had a cardiac arrest. They revived him after a while. But he was believed to be brain dead then later on into comma. I had to fly right away to see him. It happened so fast.
And we were in the dark for the next 14 days of my life . I stayed in the hospital did not go anywhere. https://partandparcel2014.wordpress.com/2015/08/11/14-day-journey/
August 5. I went out and saw the saddest sunset. I was on the phone with my sister telling her that the “takipsilim” or dusk looked very sad. All our hopes were going down with the sun. That night, almost midnight, he passed away. First time to go to the house where I grew up. But it was dark and empty. I fell asleep on his bed.
August 8. It was my youngest child’s birthday. It was also my Father’s burial/interment. Part of my heart was buried with him. After a few hours I had to fly back to my family. It was night time when I arrived at home. It was not too late to watch my 3 year old blow the candle on her birthday cake.