That’s when we were told to go in the next morning to talk to the doctors. I thought we’d be given the stats, percentages, the lowdown of where you are at and how much survival rate you’d have.
The time on our clock stopped and I didn’t change the battery.
I was furiously researching post Covid recovery and imagining what your life would entail if we got you home safely. I was planning out various scenarios of how I could safely make my way home to spend more time with you. I was not watching the clock.
Wednesday 26th we made you the meal you demanded and you said it was delicious. Mum and I made plans for your aftercare believing that the soup was actually your first meal to regaining strength on the path of recovery.
Thursday 27th I spoke with you in the morning as soon as Lucy got into my bed but you said you felt tired and wanted to rest. One hour later Mum rang and texted Urgent! Call me! I rang you dad and my girls and I encouraged you to stay strong and fight the collapsed lung. We were hopeful, and I think you too, as you promised you would and then you abruptly cut us off maybe so that you can get the aid you need quicker or maybe because you didn’t want the girls to see them put you into your coma.
Saturday, the time stopped ticking. Mum said we had to think about what final words we should say to you. Some of us still thought there was hope. We recorded words of encouragement. Sarah wrote you a poem,
“Dear 公公, I love you, I love you the whole way through. Dear 公公, I know you and I hope that you know me too. Dear 公公, I’ve been praying for you. I hope that you’ll get better too.
Dear 公公, I love you, that’s why I wrote this poem for you.
Dear 公公, I also thank you for being so kind and bringing me to the Malaysian zoo.
I love you forever and ever”
but said as an afterthought: “and even if you die, I will remember you forever and ever like I said,”
Lucy said, “Dear 公公, I Love you. Be strong, be brave, be free of the Coronavirus. I Love you forever 公公.”
Sunday morning, the doctor said she didn’t think it would be kind to revive you because you would be in so much pain. We said our final goodbyes and mum said you teared up when you realised it was farewell and not well wishes anymore.
The time stopped that weekend and I was frozen in time, my final screenshot of my final moment with you, I didn’t want to leave, but I had no choice.
I never changed that battery but Steve found one that you had bought. It’s like you wanted to give us the power to carry on and that you were willing us to move forward with time. And so Monday came and the clock was ticking again.
But time stopped that weekend, perhaps it had suspended all month. May 2021, my very last month with you. Talking everyday that we could, praying and hoping and missing you. Thank you for being my father and being in our lives.
