... And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Those lines kept repeating in my head over and over again until my head hurt. Don't just lie there, fight! Wake up! I wanted to shout at him while he was in the ICU, being kept alive by machines.
He was strong, his strength was like a blessing and a curse for us. We feared him and yet we rely on him all our lives. He made troubles go away, he always mae us feel safe.
Seeing him lying there was heartbreaking, he was so quiet, so "dead."It's God's will, it's his time t o go, I told myself repeatedly just to make sense of what was happening. It all happened so fast, it felt like I was watching a movie. It was so real and yet everything's a blur.
He was a fighter, when he had his second stroke back in 2000, the doctors said he may not do the things he'd normally do but my father proved them wrong . He was a fighter. I was so sure he'd wake up, I was so sure he'll get through it. I know my father, he just wouldn't give up without a fight... but he didn't... he left us so quietly, so peacefully. We never had our goodbyes...
It was his time to go, it's God's will. I still say to myself, I believe it. It keeps me from crying all the time.
