I was driving to the gym when a message from my youngest brother popped up in our siblings group chat.
He is a physician and just had a 45-minute meeting with my parents and a palliative care doctor. This is a type of care that focuses on providing relief from the symptoms of serious and chronic illnesses.
My father has not been living at home for the past three and a half months, ever since he entered a hospital for worsening symptoms of his Parkinson鈥檚 disease. For more than two months, he鈥檚 been living in a skilled nursing facility because he needs round-the-clock help with daily tasks.
I鈥檝e written quite a bit about my father鈥檚 decline because it鈥檚 been such a shock for me. He went from a "young-old" man in his mid-to-late 70s to unrecognizably frail and dependent so much quicker than I ever expected.
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My brother was about to deliver another difficult blow.
鈥淒ad is updating his code status to 鈥榙o not resuscitate,鈥欌 he wrote. Our dad told him that he doesn鈥檛 want chest compressions, intubation, a feeding tube, dialysis or any other medical intervention that might be needed. He also decided to end any PET scans and follow-up appointments with his oncologist because he doesn鈥檛 want treatment, even if his cancer returns.
My brother explained everything in detail to our dad and asked multiple times if he was sure. He assured us that our father was making an informed decision completely of sound mind and stable mood.
I sat in the car for a few minutes processing his words. Even though my father has made these same preferences known to us on prior occasions, it felt like a gut punch realizing that it was going to become an official change in his medical records.
My father is the extreme opposite of a quitter and raised us all to have grit, resilience and a fighting spirit. He鈥檚 also only 81. While I recognize this is older than the average lifespan of 76 for an American male, both his parents lived into their 90s. His older siblings also lived to their late 80s and 90s.
Longevity is a hallmark of their sturdy genes.
Perhaps my father will also get those extra years, but he鈥檚 decided that quality matters over quantity. I respect that. Honestly, I would make the exact same choice.
So why do my eyes still fill with tears and my chest tightens whenever I think about it?
The last couple of weekends I鈥檝e spent visiting my father have been delightful. He鈥檚 adjusted to where he鈥檚 staying. His mental cognition and mood are better than I鈥檝e seen in recent years. He asks about my children, my husband and my dog, Frankie.
I show him pictures of how my hostas, jasmine plant, hydrangeas and bougainvillea are doing. He grew up in Model Town, a suburb of Lahore, Pakistan, in a house surrounded by all sorts of fruit trees and greenery. His green thumb has planted flourishing flowers and trees at every home he鈥檚 had.
Right now, three huge crepe myrtles are blooming with hot pink flowers in my parents鈥 backyard. In Houston, they grow to the size of large trees. I took photos of the trees and flowers to show him. He teared up when he saw how they were thriving.
鈥淚 thought I didn鈥檛 have anything left to live for,鈥 he said. 鈥淏ut maybe I do.鈥
He asked me if I could take him to the backyard sometime, so he could see the trees again. I said I would try.
The next day, I cut five of those showy, crinkled-petal blossoms and put them in a jar filled with water. On my next visit, I took them to his room. His face brightened when he saw the vibrant color on the delicate, wrinkled flowers.
I put them on the dresser, under the television, directly across from his bed.
I hope whenever he sees them, he鈥檚 reminded.
There鈥檚 still beauty and love to live for.
Post-Dispatch photographers capture tens of thousands of images every year. See some of their best work that was either taken in June 2025 in this video. Edited by Jenna Jones.