Page 139 - A Life Well-Lived Is a Beautiful Memory

“This is so unfair! I am supposed to take care of you,” he said to me in anguish when he
learned of the terrifying diagnosis. And so, even as the cancer spread, he continued my morning

blood pressure checks until he was too weak. His boundless concern resonated in his last words
before intubation: an apology for keeping me awake as nurses cleared his throat.
Two weeks later, riddled with tubes and kept alive by a ventilator, the palliative doctor
offered the agonizing choice: remove life support. Torn between keeping him with me and ending

his suffering, I asked his wishes. His eyes, pools of love and sadness, met mine. Perhaps he saw
my torment, for he signaled “No.” So, Bhanu clung on for weeks, until his body, ravaged and
exhausted, succumbed to the inevitable, bringing an end to a life that measured its worth in love,
sacrifice, and devotion.

“Ubi ego, ibi tu. Ubi tu, ibi ego. Semper et una.” (“Where I am, you are there. Where you
are, I am there. Always and together.”)
As Bhanu’s ashes floated down the Chao Phya River, I felt my life slipping away with them.
Yet, amidst the searing pain, his words from 45 years ago offered solace: “I want to spend my

life with you.” He did.

Bhanupong Nidhiprabha 139