Widow Captures Son Playing With Deceased Dad: No one can deny the existence of this video, which depicts a small boy engaging in playful interactions with his departed father. When a partner dies and the surviving spouse is left to raise a child alone, the pain can be Excruciating. When it comes to raising children, most couples don’t think they’ll be able to do so without their partner, but life has other ideas.
One lady sadly lost her spouse in the months following the 7-month birthday of their youngest of four children. Nothing can take the place of a lover or a father, but the mother believes he is always present and that her son can see him. To be honest, it’s impossible to disagree with video evidence. Her son, who was 7 months old at the time, can be seen swinging his legs energetically as he glances behind her and shouts, “Dada.” I took this video just three days after he passed away. She shared two more videos a few days later, in which their son appears to be playing with someone we can’t see.
These are just a few of the events taken on camera by the parent, who stated that each of these situations provided an opportunity for her child to bond with his father. Many people were taken aback when they saw this footage. “I believe it wholeheartedly,” one of the aforementioned supporters added. “It’s his father! He is aware of his presence!” “He’s having a full conversation with him. Another else penned the phrase “melts my heart.” It’s wonderful to be reminded that he’s always with them. We genuinely hope that his presence provided them with comfort. A widow has shot a video of her son playing with his deceased father for those who don’t believe in miracles.
Sharry son had no father from moment he was born
Lane Smith, her partner, died while she was eight months pregnant due to an unfortunate accident. She revealed on Facebook that the father of her newborn child was her best friend. “Ever since that day, I’ve felt so empty inside.” It didn’t matter that their son had been born; he didn’t appear in any of their photographs, and she knew this was a problem. With this in mind, she contacted a professional photographer to inquire about having her complete family, including Lane, photographed.
Kayli Rene was asked to “play around” with editing Taos’ father into one of their images in order to capture their first family shot. I had entertained the notion in my head before they approached me about it, but I wasn’t sure if I could make it a reality for them.” Rene used expert photoshopping to incorporate a photograph of Tao’s gazing over his family’s shoulder into their six-month family portrait. “This will be treasured forever,” she says. So, how do you feel about this image? If you were in a similar circumstance, would you consider manufacturing a souvenir like this?
My father’s athletic and adventurous 75-year-old body, which had run 18 marathons, summited mountains across North America, and traversed the most remote stretches of Africa, had been ravaged by amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, the incurable illness also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease, as of March 12, 2020. His “illness,” which was both cruel and sympathetic, spared his mind—the one that had enabled him to become a Harvard-trained epidemiologist, preach the power of public policy, memorize William Wordsworth, and extemporize about Marx, Krishnamurti, and Rousseau.
My father died result of my actions, and here’s how I Did It
Despite his weakened status as a result of ALS, my father claimed to be in control of his own death. As I completed my breakfast in New York, my father texted me. He urged me to intercede in order to preserve his life. The request startled me, but that’s not the same as saying it was unexpected. I didn’t see anything was wrong with him until he arrived in California from Maine 10 months before. He’d come to meet Fern, his first great-granddaughter, whom I had just given birth to. He attempted to pick her up but was unable to do so due to his inability to bend down.
He couldn’t walk, and he spoke about the future in a melancholy tone that wasn’t typical of him. After four journeys to Maine, he appeared to be getting older: his face was thinner, and his limbs were trailer. To relieve himself, he used to walk a short distance to the restroom. After that, he needs assistance in standing and using a portable urinal. He had always insisted on a romantic dining table, but now he ate with a dish in hand in front of the television. To escape the difficult chore of climbing and descending the flight of steps, he eventually resorted to sleeping on a hospital bed on the first level.
I didn’t want to put Fern in his lap because I was frightened he’d drop her, but he seemed concerned. Fern and Alex had come to New York with me. It was an odd time to go: the number of coronavirus cases had started to grow, and the city had shut down, leaving the streets unusually empty. I was, however, late for work as well as a post-dinner meeting with my father. I’d been terrified for months that the flu outbreak might force domestic flights to be canceled, keeping me separated from him for an indefinite period of time.
In Maine, those with terminal illnesses with a prognosis of six months or fewer have only lately been permitted to obtain life-ending drugs through a doctor’s prescription. In April, my father became the second Maine resident to reap the benefits of the new law. He’d always claimed that he’d rather be alone in a hospital with his Glock than on a ventilator or a feeding tube. There was an easier route as a result of the law.
Allow people to choose how and when they Die
Medically assisted suicide, or MASS, as its opponents term it, is now legal in eight other states and the District of Columbia. Advocates prefer the phrase “death with dignity.” It’s a dangerous move that the majority of people can’t afford. At the end of that continuum is a set of healthcare options that allow people to choose how and when they die. And there are now more options than ever before for the vast majority of Americans who prefer to avoid invasive therapies and die at home when faced with a terminal illness.
My father was primarily reared by his mother, who worked as a hotel chambermaid as a child. He was inspired to start his own business in public health research and consulting after co-captaining his university football team. As a cook, photographer, and self-declared Buddhist, he polished his skills. He was equally adept at wiring a house, tiling a floor, skinning a deer, riding a motorcycle, and operating a boat. His life was a live example of the proverb “if you put in the effort, anything is achievable.”
Then there was ALS, which was an uncontrollable force. His nerve cells will atrophy and die as the illness worsens, turning his muscles to mush and losing him the ability to freely govern the movements involved in speech and swallowing. To make matters worse, he began to have difficulty walking and became more sensitive to respiratory issues such as coughing and difficulty breathing, as well as pneumonia. He’d be dead in three to five years, if not sooner, once he started showing symptoms.
