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I remember my mom suggesting that we should spend Christmas outside of the country to distract ourselves from the holidays. After the passing of my stepdad, Christmas was lonely. She said that we should invite my dad so we could all be together. 

I remember calling my dad in Mexico and suggesting we all go to Thailand for Christmas and meet there. He agreed, cheerful at the idea of being reunited in a distant part of the world neither of us had visited yet. 

I remember my dad jokingly saying through the telephone “sounds like a good idea, who knows how much longer I have before I kick the bucket!” I told him to shush. 

I remember seeing my dad in the distance walking up to me, smiling widely under his sun hat as he came up and hugged me. My dad wasn't a man of physical affection, but his later years had warmed him up. His girlfriend told me that he was very happy to see me. 

I remember being coaxed to pose for a group photo. We stood in front of a rowdy ocean shore. The waves crashed loudly against the rock wall we leaned up on. My mom always insisted on taking pictures and I silently protested due to my lack of makeup but nonetheless pushed my cheeks upwards and smiled. The photo was taken.  

I remember sitting and waiting in my dad's hotel vila, as he walked around looking for his flask. I asked him if he was going to fill it up with water, assuming the Thailand heat had finally encouraged him to drink more liquid. I always reminding him to drink more water. He giggled at my comment, he didn't fill it up with water. 

I remember sitting across from my dad as we waited for the car to arrive which would take us on an excursion. He was sitting there with his sun hat as the clear blue sky and palm trees decorated the background. I wanted to take a picture of him. I couldn't help but think to myself “What if this is the last chance for me to capture such a moment?” I reassured myself that more opportunities would arise. The car arrived before I ever got around to taking the picture. 

I remember sitting with my dad and his girlfriend as we talked about different things. My dads concern of developing alzheimers came up in conversation since his father had had it himself. I felt a deep twinge of worry, hoping that such a thing would never take over my father.

I remember looking toward the sliding doors which lead to the balcony, and saw my mom sneak a photograph of us as we talked. My dad and I both lightheartedly rolled our eyes. It was the last photograph of my dad and I together. 

I remember being nervous the next day, worried about my dad. I sat by the pool and tried to enjoy the sun as I distracted myself with a book. I voiced my concerns to my mom about my dad growing old in Mexico, far away from my ability to help him. My mom tried to calm me down. She said my father was very strong and clear headed. Alzheimers was nowhere close to getting him. 

I remember we went to a restaurant by the beach. We were all laughing so hard that my stomach ached. We reminisced about silly things, teasing one another with old memories. My dad ordered a very spicy curry which he could hardly finish. 

I remember my mom waking me up one morning after she had taken a walk to my dads hotel. She said that he didn't feel well. He went to a local clinic to see what happened. The pit in my stomach deepened. 

I remember receiving a phone call from my dads girlfriend, she informed us that my father had actually gotten a heart attack during the evening, causing him to feel sick. He was under supervision and care at a hospital. 

I remember going to see my dad at the hospital. The sight of him lying in a hospital bed, dressed in a gown was the most vulnerable I had ever seen my father in the entirety of my life. I hugged him and sat there holding his hand. He said, “can you believe it?” I sat there and listened to the doctors explain what was going to happen. My dad was going to go through surgery. They would transfer him to Bangkok hospital and it was going to be fixed. 

I remember going to sleep very late that night. I felt a sharp but short twinge in my chest. It worried me. I unconvincingly tried to calm myself down.

I remember being woken up by my mom a few hours later. She had received a phone call and told me that my father was unwell. He was in critical condition. He had another heart attack while being transferred to Bangkok. His brain had gone without oxygen for ten minutes and he was no longer conscious. 

I remember feeling like the walls were closing in on me. An overwhelming and crude surreal sensation of inexplicable dread and fear. It could not be true, life could not be that cruel. 

I remember staying awake all night until we could get a hold of a car which could drive us up to Bangkok. To see my unconscious father in the hospital. The long drive was a numbing experience. 

I remember finally finding the room which my father was in. He lay there hooked up to an oxygen machine. He was still alive but not really. I watched as his chest rhymically raised and lowered due to the oxygen. His eyes were closed. I held his hand and I cried. 

I remember thinking that people say that hearing is the last sense a dying person loses. So I spoke to him, told him I loved him and forgave him for everything. 

I remember feeling disbelief and a bittersweet sense of amazement, that I should be reunited with my dad during his last days.

I remember feeling lost.

I remember regretting the photos I never took.

I remember feeling guilt about all the moments I didn't spend with my dad. 

I remember wondering if I knew deep down what was going to happen, like some form of sixth sense. 

I remember hoping he wasn't entirely gone.

I remember hoping that there was an afterlife, yet at that moment I feared there might not be.