Fang Xin

Last night, the hospital staff ran an X-ray to see if my dad had pneumonia. My dad's breathing has gotten heavier and it sounded like there was some congestion in his chest.

My aunts had a hard time because they were leaving. This would be their last time seeing my dad. They tried really hard not to cry in front of him.

My second aunt from San Jose helped me meet with several funeral services today. My Chinese isn't good enough to do it alone and my mom was in no shape at all. So my aunt and I took up the responsibility. We had heard that if we didn't plan, the funeral service companies would jack up the prices because they know that you're in a vulnerable position.

My aunt was fierce - always asking questions, inquiring about the need for this and that, verifying if what one representative's claim was true or not. In the end, we agreed that this company Eilin, was the best. The representative, Mr. Zhang, didn't seem shady and was very respectful of our situation.

This took nearly 3 hours to meet with 3 representatives. Meanwhile, my mom, sister, girlfriend and first aunt were in keeping my dad company. He was too weak to talk, and would respond with nods or the occasional, "Ugh."

My uncle - my mom's brother - and my aunt arrived in the afternoon as well to see my dad for the last time. My dad was very grateful of my uncle for helping get my dad into Tai Da Hospital and getting an appointment with a reputable liver doctor.

After my relatives left, my dad's condition seemed to stabilize. The nurses had earlier administered 2 bags of blood plasma and one I.V. bag of human albumin, which I believe was for the lung infection. He was now peeing and he would respond to what we were saying.

Once, he became frustrated and pulled off his oxygen mask. Then he started mumbling something not discernable. He became even more frustrated when we kept asking him to repeat what he said. We all tried to comfort him and calmed him down. That was difficult to go through.

At around 10 p.m., we were all exhausted. My girlfriend and my mom fell asleep on the couch. I fell asleep around 11 sitting in a chair; I was trying to write this blog, but it ended up being the letter, "k," repeating for several pages. My sister had the first shift to watch dad and monitor his condition.

At 12:40 a.m., I woke up to the nurse talking to my sister. She was explaining that my dad had lost his blood pressure and he would soon pass. I hurried over beside him. I brushed his forehead and looked him in the eyes. His heart was still beating and he was still breathing.

Earlier, my uncle and my second aunt both told me, "You need to tell your dad not to worry about your mom, that you and your sister will take care of her." Or, "Tell your dad that he'll be in a safe place."

My sister and I both told him those things, but he already knew we would.

Earlier in the day, I asked my dad if he thought about my grandmother. He nodded. I asked if he thought about my grandfather. He shook his head.

A few months ago, my dad recalled when grandma was nearing the end of her life. He had just arrived from Shanghai and I was taking him to see her. In the car, I told him he should thank her for sacrificing everything and bringing the family to Taiwan.

At first, he was reluctant, saying that she knew. But the minute he walked up to her, he broke into tears and thanked her. She hugged him and patted him on the back. My dad said that he will never forget that moment and he thanked me for telling him to say that.

Sitting there next to him, my sister said, "Fang xin, Pa. Wuo men hui kan hao Mommy."

"Fang xin," I added. "Ni ke-yi kan Nai-Nai. Ni ke-yi gen ta yiqi." (You can see grandma. You can be with her.)

No more than a second later, his breathing ceased.

We kissed him on the forehead. The doctor came in and pronounced my father's death at Thursday, May 17, 1:01 a.m.