The first thing I felt the moment my wife told me that she was pregnant was pure bliss. She was still three weeks pregnant that time and I couldn't wait until she gets on her ninth month and I'll be able to see my little angel. There were no days that I didn't felt excited and thankful. I did my best to thank the Lord for giving me such blessing. Not a single day did I fail to thank Him.

Time had passed and I was getting more and more excited as my  wife was on her seventh month of pregnancy. I did the best that I could to take care of both of them as there were only two months left of waiting before my little angel could see the outside world. But it seems like fate was being mean to me.

When my wife was on her way for her check-up with my sister, Yoora, they got involved in a huge car accident that was caused by a drunkard driver. They were both rushed to the nearest hospital.

The time I was informed about the accident, I was currently on a meeting. After the phonecall I immediately went to the hospital and left the meeting that was ongoing. When I got there, doctors and nurses were in a rush as they passed by me. I hurriedly went to the information desk to ask where my wife and sister was. The nurse then directed me to the operating room and informed me that my wife was still inside whilst my sister was transferred to one of their private rooms at the hospital.

Each step I took felt like torture as I ran my way through the emergency room. I walked back and forth as I waited for the doctors and nurses to come out and give me a favorable news. Sadly, when they did come out, they brought me good and bad news. I remembered the doctor telling me that my wife did not made it, but my daughter did.

I felt tears rushing through my eyes as I looked at my precious daughter. I named her Chanmi, a combination my wife's name and mine. I contemplated whether I should be happy or not. For me that day was both a blessing and a nightmare in disguise.

Yes, my daughter did survived, yet she was prematured and very weak. She was inside an incubator with different tubes inserted into her body. I hated seeing my only daughter right there lying inside a machine as if she was on life support, in which she really was. Without those machines, I doubted if she could really survive. I also I hated the fact that my wife was already gone. It's going to be hard to accept that reality.

Day after day, I went in and out of the hospital taking care of my baby. I know there were a lot of nurses that could take care of her there, but I wanted to take care of the most precious gift my wife has given me myself. I'd always check up on her even if I'm at the office or during meetings. I always made sure that she was safe and healthy.

Even though I was still at the phase of accepting my wife's death, that didn't stop me from living my life and I want to thank my precious daughter for that. I realized that I needed to be strong for the both of us. She's my life now. The sole reason why I'm living.

The day of my wife's burial finally came. It was the day I dreaded the most. The day I would have to tell her my last goodbye. My one week old daughter was still at the hospital. I wanted to bring her to her mother's burial, but I knew it would be dangerous for her, so I didn't.

It seemed like the skies felt what I felt that day