my dad was rushed to the hospital, clutching his chest in agony. The doctor’s words cut through me like a knife: “He’s had a massive heart attack.”
The days that followed were a blur of hospital visits, tests, and treatments. My dad, once full of life and laughter, now lay fragile and weak. I held his hand, praying for a miracle, but deep down, I knew.
One fateful night, the doctor called me aside, his eyes somber. “I’m so sorry, but your dad’s heart is giving out. We’ve done everything we can.”
I felt like I was drowning in a sea of despair. I rushed to my dad’s side, holding him close as he whispered, “I love you, daughter… be strong.”
With those final words, his eyes closed, and his hand slipped from mine. I was left alone, surrounded by the beeping machines and sterile hospital air.
The days that followed were a haze of tears, condolences, and funeral arrangements. But even in death, my dad taught me the value of strength, love, and resilience.
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