Iris, 6 years old, and Mariana, 8, missed their father, Brian.
After his passing, they hadn’t been sneaking cookies and ice cream from the kitchen at night, nor had they teamed up to tease their mother. Without their dad, nothing was happy.
“You’re rotting those girls, Brian!” their mother Linda used to say.
“Besides, you always back them up when I tell them off — they steal cookies from the pantry!”
“I can’t help it, they’re adorable!” Brian said. “Sorry, honey, you know I adore you, right?”
That was Brian — always equalizing things out. He was a caring family man. But after his passing, something changed. Iris and Mariana were very quiet, and Linda, well, she stumbled to accept his passing.
After all, her last memories with Brian were horrible. He worsen before her eyes, and she couldn’t help him. After the diagnosis, the end came quickly despite the medical staff’s efforts.
He passed away one early morning during sleep.
The night before, he had informed that the girls visit him in the hospital and stay with him until the very last moment. He probably felt it was his last night with his little daughters. He also asked to speak to them alone.
“On my birthday, I want my girls to look as beautiful as possible, and I’m happy to see what they will wear. Do you promise to visit me and show me your beautiful outfits? You see, Dad might not be with you that day, but you have to promise me you will look your best,” were Brian’s last words that night.
