Farewell, my dear, you return to the land of white clouds!!!

My life wasn't long, nor was it ever complete, but I lived through it with everything I had...

As I was preparing for a business trip, I received news—news that should have been joyful, with the arrival of a little angel—but the accompanying information overshadowed the joy: Tuyet had given birth to a baby girl, but she was in critical condition in the hospital. Tuyet was very weak!

The joy, which hadn't even been shared yet, had to give way to worry. And that worry wasn't small at all. It grew with each phone call, each message, each anxious glance from colleagues. In the small group chat of the female colleagues, there were only messages about Tuyet – where is she now, how is she doing?...

I told myself that I would visit her when I got back from my business trip.

I embarked on my business trip, attending work sessions and conferences with the eagerness to see time pass quickly and the work completed as soon as possible. On the second day of my trip, my phone rang. My colleague's voice on the other end was hesitant, very soft, but couldn't hide her panic: "Have you heard the news?... Snow is getting weaker... I'm so scared. Scared of losing someone, scared of the feeling of witnessing another colleague pass away while we're working together."

I don't remember what I replied. I only remember a very real feeling: my heart skipped a beat, like the dizzying feeling of knowing you're about to lose something you can't hold onto.

Like you, I fear separation. I fear witnessing another colleague – someone I worked with and laughed with just yesterday – suddenly leave, just like the time we lost a colleague we will forever miss and can never fill the void in our hearts.

From the moment I received her phone call, everything became a mess. Numbers and conference minutes flashed aimlessly through my mind. I sat there, but my heart was churning with a tumultuous mix of emotions. Wave after wave of overwhelming sadness rose within me.

Unable to restrain myself, I later texted Tuyet's direct supervisor. I cautiously asked a question, hesitating and deliberating for a long time before daring to send it. And the answer was just as brief:

"She probably won't be able to hold on much longer..."

"Last night I got to hold my baby. After holding her for a while, I fell into a coma. The hospital sent me home. My colleagues and I just came back from where she was."

A few minutes later, the phone rang again.

"She's gone!!!"

"How pitiful!"

No one was calm enough to write a coherent sentence. No one had the strength to hold onto anything anymore.

I read the message over and over again: "...she got to hold her child. After holding the child for a while, she fell into a coma..." It broke my heart. That was the last hug, and then she let go...

People often say that motherhood is a sacred journey. But who would have thought that some people have to sacrifice their own lives to fulfill that sacred role, even if only for a fleeting moment?

I stared at the screen for a long time, trying to hold back my tears in front of strangers. But I couldn't suppress the deep pain I felt inside.

I quietly arranged my work schedule and returned to Hanoi as I had told my colleague in a previous message, "I'll be back early tomorrow and will visit her," feeling guilty towards Tuyet.

When I received the news that she was in the emergency room, I promised myself that I would visit her after my business trip. I also promised my colleague that I would visit her tomorrow.

How many appointments do we wait for, only to find they never happen? How many relationships exist as if they were taken for granted, only to be missed when they part ways? And then, one day, when they're gone, we understand: Not everything can wait.

Tuyết hasn't been working at the office for long. She's gentle and quiet, but her dedication and responsibility are evident to everyone. Her work involves human resources, paperwork, and so on. Occasionally, I still need her guidance and help with various tasks. She's gentle, dedicated, and explains every small detail. Even during tiring pregnancy periods, when colleagues repeatedly ask the same questions, she remains patient and gentle. Perhaps she doesn't realize that it's precisely this quiet demeanor that makes people remember her for so long.

The small corner of her desk is always overflowing with papers, and even in the late afternoons, the lights in her office are still on… She works as if she’s always afraid of not finishing on time. As if every day needs to be lived to the fullest.

From now on, all of this will remain in the memories of your colleagues! You lived a life full of dedication to your work, a life full of sacrifice, risking your life to be a wife and mother – even if only for a brief moment!

People often speak of sacrifice in grandiose words. But sometimes, sacrifice comes very quietly. Like you – a young woman. You passed through this life without fanfare, without demands, quietly working, quietly loving, and then quietly departing.

My life wasn't long, nor was it ever complete. But I've lived through it with everything I had...

I arrived in Hanoi when the streetlights were already on. It was still the familiar streets, still my Hanoi, but it lacked the sparkling colors that brought the joyful feeling of returning after long journeys. The sad yellow lights seemed to blur in my eyes. Perhaps it was because a star had just faded.

Farewell, my dear, you return to the land of white clouds!!!

Source: https://baophapluat.vn/tien-biet-em-em-ve-mien-may-trang.html