It’s been exactly one year and four months since Ed passed away. I never would have thought that at exactly this moment in time, my dad would have had double bypass surgery, finally gotten discharged from the hospital after nine nights, and be back home recovering in his own home with my mom and me. I also never would have thought that he’d finally acknowledge after all these years exactly how freezing this house is, and that the heat actually does need to be turned on. He was coughing uncontrollably when we got home and we finally realized he was coughing so much because of all the cold air circulating throughout the house. Once the heat was turned on to 72 degrees Fahrenheit, his coughing calmed down and he was able to breathe comfortably.

Ed would have been happy to know that our father was recovering quickly from his heart surgery. I think he may have even secretly been more excited that my dad finally acknowledged he was wrong about the temperature of the house and finally decided to voluntarily turn on the heat. He’d probably even be in disbelief right now if he were here to see and experience this himself.

Our dad is finally home, though. He’s survived the scary surgery with flying colors, and he won’t be joining Ed anytime soon. That’s right. My dad is getting closer to his 150^th birthday like I said he would. It’s a good moment today.

My younger uncle and my dad have never really gotten along. It stems from seemingly ridiculous childhood problems and their respective high levels of stubbornness. In my family, everyone loves to blame each other, and no one ever wants to admit fault — at least, out loud to others.

I guess it had to take a family history of heart disease to get these two to start reaching out to one another. They both saw their older brother pass away from a heart attack 14 years ago at just 65 years of age, and then my uncle had his angiogram two months ago that revealed his blocked artery, which prompted my dad to call him. And ultimately, it was my uncle who suggested to my dad that he get the stress test and angiogram done, which led to my dad’s bypass surgery this past week.

My uncle visited for the second time tonight, and he spent two hours in my dad’s room with us and my aunt, talking about childhood memories, recent events, and my grandpa’s position in the U.S. Navy during World War II. For the first time, I found out that my grandpa went to Okinawa to fight during the war, and he got within 10 inches of some sharp object that almost killed him. He apparently kept it and brought it back to the U.S. with him after the war — as a reminder of how close he came to death and how precious life is.

My dad and uncle were laughing so hard at a few points that my dad had to ask everyone to calm down because he was afraid his laughter would open up his chest incision. It was amazing to see them both laughing so freely together. It looked and felt natural — I couldn’t believe it.

Is this what it takes for two hostile brothers to reconcile? It’s never too late. This surgery will save my dad’s life — and perhaps even my dad’s relationship with his younger brother. Here’s to hoping we’re all moving in a positive direction for both.

I hate hospitals. They smell funny, have stale air, and just have a general aura of “ugh.” Bacteria are everywhere here, and everyone constantly is squirting alcohol or some form of antibacterial gel on their hands. Today, I saw a happy man carrying a big basket of flowers and balloons that read “It’s a GIRL!” It was likely to a new mother in one of the patient rooms. The idea of having to give birth to a child in a hospital just makes me seriously think about wanting to have a midwife and have a water birth in the comfort of my own future bath tub.

I just spent the night at the hospital in the Cardiovascular Intensive Care Unit with my dad. I slept on and off throughout the night awkwardly in a chair next to him. My mom and I are taking turns staying with him each night until he gets home. Today, he was transferred out of the ICU into a regular room because his blood pressure has returned back to normal. All I have to say is, I cannot wait until he is well enough to come back home. I’m so exhausted.

My mom has a church service to attend tomorrow morning, and because she doesn’t want my dad to stay alone too long (the nurses didn’t give him his lunch until 2pm today while I was out with my friend, so she was furious), I said I’d arrive at the hospital before she leaves in the morning. My dad insisted he was fine and says that he can take care of himself. “Why do you want to come again tomorrow?” he said to me. “Because I want to see you, doofus!” I exclaimed. “Why do you think I came home?!” He laughs, along with my mom, aunt, cousin and his wife, who are visiting.

Sometimes, my dad is so clueless. But his progress is making me feel really proud now.

After getting some chores and work done this morning, my aunt and I came back to the hospital to see my dad. My mom looked as though she had just spent the night dodging bullets, and my dad… Well, he looked like he just had heart surgery. I’d never seen him more frail in my life. He initially was so weak this morning that when the nurse asked him if he was ready to take a walk, he laughed and said, ‘No way!” His voice was weak, and he said his chest hurt every time he spoke due to the incision there from the surgery. Later in the morning after I arrived, he became more animated and alert, and he said he was up for a walk. He did not one lap but two laps around the ICU, and he said he could do another and feel fine, but the nurses said he should sit back down. Clearly, he was very proud of himself.

“How do you feel, Daddy?” I asked him today. “Do you feel like you have a new heart?”

He said he felt good, just very tired and a bit dizzy. The only pain he felt was from the chest incision. The nurse said that would take some time to heal, but the pain was completely normal. I asked him what it felt like between the period of getting sedated and then waking up after surgery.

“That Wednesday before the surgery… I was really scared,” he finally admitted. “I had no idea what was going to happen.” He then told me that wasn’t fully the truth because he spent a few days before reading all about the surgery and even watched a few bypass surgery videos on YouTube. Yes, that’s the kind of person my dad is. He wants to know everything and even see the gruesome stuff.

“Well, I didn’t watch the entire surgery,” he insisted. “I can’t handle that kind of stuff after a certain point!”

He said that after he fell asleep from the anesthesia, he felt like he was in one long sleep, like a coma. He said he dreamt he was in some place he didn’t recognize, and he said he had no idea which direction to go in. The next thing he knew, he was waking up, and he saw my mom sitting in a chair looking over him. Then it hit him: he survived.

“I know heart disease runs in this family,” he said. “Ever since I turned 64, I kept thinking… how much longer do I have? When is it (a heart attack) going to happen?”

It’s a scary reality to think about, but I’m so thankful that my dad had this surgery and every procedure and test before it that led up to this. Like my boss says, it’s like Life 2.0 for him. He has a new and renewed heart, and another shot at life. This surgery is “standard” for so many people now due to technological advances. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier being part of today’s world than the last 24 hours. My dad is going to be healthy and happy soon.

Did you hear that, Ed? Daddy’s on the road to recovery. He won’t be joining you anytime soon, but I know you aren’t upset about that. I know you aren’t worrying about the surgery anymore and are calm now that his heart has been fixed. Just don’t worry like our mother is about every little thing.