Dad arrived and stood silently by Mom's bedside, simply gazing at her.
The case wasn't over. My death clearly wasn't an accident, and the culprit still hadn't been found.
Mom lay in bed for a week, and Dad came every day. On the seventh day, he finally stopped standing there like a lost soul.
He pulled out a video from when I performed in kindergarten.
"Hello everyone, I'm Kate Garcia. Today I'm going to sing a Chinese nursery rhyme, 'Mom's the Best in the World.'"
"Mom's the Best in the World."
"Children with Moms are like treasures."
"Sleeping in Mom's arms."
"Enjoying endless happiness."
"Mom's the Best in the World."
"Children without Moms are like weeds."
"Leaving Mom's embrace."
"Where can happiness be found?"
As my youthful voice rang out, tears streamed down Mom's face
