Just in the last month of 2021, my 102-year-old grandmother passed away, and the healthy old man, after getting a pneumonia that we did not think could not recover, resolutely completed the last part of his life in the form of hunger strike. I couldn't let go until I finished reading Keigo Higashino's book.
The heroine's daughter Mizuho died of brain death due to drowning, but after discovering that her daughter's body still had a slight reaction, Fumiko rejected the doctor's suggestion for organ donation after painfully entangled contradictions. Using the high-tech equipment researched by her husband, whose relationship has long been broken, and Chang's company, mizuho maintains normal physical functions. Over time, although the brain is unconscious, Mizuho's muscles become more and more powerful because of the continuous exercise under the control of high-tech equipment, but the smile is mechanical, the movement is also mechanical, and even the height growth is because of the machine.
Fumiko takes care of her daughter day after day, and her persistence is not understood by those around her. Finally, one day, Fumiko dreamed that her daughter came to say goodbye, thanked her mother for her hard work over the past few years, and thanked her mother for the love she gave. After waking up from the dream, her daughter's body also changed, and Fumiko was finally able to accept the fact that her daughter was really gone, and offered to donate her daughter's organs. When his daughter's heart continued to beat in the chest of another little boy, the little boy always felt that his body had an inexplicable floral fragrance, and that flower was her daughter Mizuho's favorite before she died.
Keigo Higashino's works often explore the problems existing in real society, while revealing the problems of human nature in reality. The problems encountered by smokers in this book may be difficult to encounter in our ordinary lives, this kind of small probability accident of drowning brain death, coupled with the plot of high-tech equipment to keep people alive, is still relatively far from life. But all the pain and entanglement that Smokers experience about "living" and "how to live", we do often face such choices in our lives.
After her daughter's brain died, her heart was still beating, if Mizuho could speak, would she be willing to choose organ transplantation, or would she be willing to unconsciously continue to "live" with the help of her mother and machine? In the face of other people's doubts, did Fumiko's heart waver when she stared at her sleeping daughter in the middle of the night? What exactly does Fumiko want to keep?
I think what she insists on retaining is the feeling that her daughter is still alive, the self-deception that has never been lost, and as a mother, this kind of thinking is understandable, which mother does not do her best to love her children? But what exactly is the best love from a mother for a daughter?
In fact, from being a mother, I really have the ability to think differently. Some mothers act hard and very hard, but they feel: "I am very hard, I gave you my life in order to give birth to you." The mother seems to give the child a lot of love and gives the child a lot of things, but she is not willing and does not enjoy the process of giving. At this time, the child must have a huge sense of guilt, so once the child understands things, he will never ask the mother for anything again.
If Mizuho is conscious and sees all the troubles and torments caused by her mother, father, brother, and especially her grandmother who has accidentally caused herself to neglect to take care of herself, I believe that Mizuho will prefer to donate her own organs and bring hope to others. After all, she was such an innocent, kind and lovely girl. As a smoker, loving your daughter is to learn to let go and let your daughter leave normally, even if her heart hurts. Better commemorate, perhaps to let yourself better accompany your brother's growth, to tell him what a kind and beautiful sister he once had.
How is the final part of life going, and who makes the decision so that there will be no regrets?
Thinking of my grandmother, who was bedridden until she was 102 years old, she said to her mother, "Don't stay, let me go early, the sooner the better." In retrospect, Grandma wasn't unconscious, she just thought too clearly about it before she said that to her daughter, my mother. The time had come for her to go, and she wanted to leave in a more dignified way when she could decide. It has nothing to do with whether she loves her family or not. After all her own life, she wanted to decide for herself.
Love also needs to let go.
I understand, Grandma, may you rest in peace in heaven.