Jiro, I Will Miss You Forever

With (what I could say) a "successful" CP Integ (well, at least it wasn't as horrible as I feared it would be) and a no-quiz day in med school, I never imagined I would end this day crying a river.

I will always remember how he sleeps through praise and worship. And worried he might fall from his mini-chair, I would carefully lay down the thin green mat for him to sleep on. I will remember how he behaves so well in our classes. Even if everybody else could care less about running around the room and leaving a stressed out teacher (points to myself), trying to win back their short span of attention, he would stay on his seat, look at me intently and try to listen still. I will treasure the moments I gladly signed his name on his crafts, as if they were the works of Michelangelo, drawing a star on his coloring sheet or putting a sticker on his chest--just enough to cheer up the little kid. I will always be fond of recalling the times I opened his snacks for him to start devouring on. I will, in all my life, be joyous to remember how his little lips pecked on my cheeks as he bid me goodbye. I've always dreamed that my kids, in one way or another, will be successful as they progress in life.

Today, an angel passed away. "My kid" just went to be with Jesus. And I, being lost for words, am broken. I've realized that even as life never gives fair chances to people who could not fight for themselves (as in the theory of Charles Darwin), it offers just about the same desolation to people who struggle to fight. Jiro, you lived 4 great years. For you touched mine.