I am unable to think about anything but yesterday's rail disaster. The rescue workers tried hard all through the night to save people left inside the cars.
According to today's news at noon, the number of the accident victims has gone up to 73. Nothing or nobody can ease their family's grief. They can't yet accept their son's, their daughter's, their father's, their mother's, their brother's, or sister's death. They can neither believe nor understand anything that has happened so suddenly.
Again, I remember the death of my husband. I remember the last day when my husband, my daughter, and I spent in his sickroom in a hospital. It was Sunday, on March 17, 1974. Our daughter became 6 years old on March 11 and we celebrated her birthday in his sickroom.
She was very happy to see Father . So was Father. My husband had entered hospital on March 5. Though I went to see him every day, my daughter could meet him only on Sunday. We talked and talked, eating strawberries. The strawberry was one of our favorite fruits.
My husband had an oxygen inhaler in order to make breathing easier. It was difficult for him to talk but he was trying to talk to us slowly. He talked to his daughter, "I'm very sorry I can't attend your ceremony at nursery. I'll not be able to go home before your ceremony on March 25. I'm sure everything will go well with you."
He seemed tired after talking too much. I asked him to let us stay with him in his sickroom that night. His sickroom was large enough for us to stay in. His doctor always told me that I could stay with him anytime I wanted.
But he said, "No, karin. I'll keep up myself one more night. If I feel so hard tonight, I'll ask you to stay with me tomorrow. Please take our daughter to nursery tomorrow morning. I don't want to disturb her. This is her last week at nursery. Please go home with her tonight. I had a wonderful time today with you both. See you tomorrow! " "Ok, I will as you wish. See you again," I said. "Bye, bye, Father. I'll coming next Sunday," my daughter said.
That was our last conversation. Those were his last words. During that night he lapsed into unconsciousness. He died in the small hours of March 19, 1974. Death came so suddenly.
I always tell my daughter, "Death will come so suddenly. Do your best you can do for you today. "
According to today's news at noon, the number of the accident victims has gone up to 73. Nothing or nobody can ease their family's grief. They can't yet accept their son's, their daughter's, their father's, their mother's, their brother's, or sister's death. They can neither believe nor understand anything that has happened so suddenly.
Again, I remember the death of my husband. I remember the last day when my husband, my daughter, and I spent in his sickroom in a hospital. It was Sunday, on March 17, 1974. Our daughter became 6 years old on March 11 and we celebrated her birthday in his sickroom.
She was very happy to see Father . So was Father. My husband had entered hospital on March 5. Though I went to see him every day, my daughter could meet him only on Sunday. We talked and talked, eating strawberries. The strawberry was one of our favorite fruits.
My husband had an oxygen inhaler in order to make breathing easier. It was difficult for him to talk but he was trying to talk to us slowly. He talked to his daughter, "I'm very sorry I can't attend your ceremony at nursery. I'll not be able to go home before your ceremony on March 25. I'm sure everything will go well with you."
He seemed tired after talking too much. I asked him to let us stay with him in his sickroom that night. His sickroom was large enough for us to stay in. His doctor always told me that I could stay with him anytime I wanted.
But he said, "No, karin. I'll keep up myself one more night. If I feel so hard tonight, I'll ask you to stay with me tomorrow. Please take our daughter to nursery tomorrow morning. I don't want to disturb her. This is her last week at nursery. Please go home with her tonight. I had a wonderful time today with you both. See you tomorrow! " "Ok, I will as you wish. See you again," I said. "Bye, bye, Father. I'll coming next Sunday," my daughter said.
That was our last conversation. Those were his last words. During that night he lapsed into unconsciousness. He died in the small hours of March 19, 1974. Death came so suddenly.
I always tell my daughter, "Death will come so suddenly. Do your best you can do for you today. "