My dad adorably made post-its for the hospital:
Every night, Dad and I drive home, sometimes in anger, sometimes in silence, always in hope. Just as we anticipate each day for my Mum's wounds to heal, we each carry our own open wound. Tonight, especially, the songs on the radio were especially soothing.
Mum and I love 那英. If she ever comes to Singapore for a concert, I hope the two of us will be there.
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