“Go Save Your Father,” Ensign, Oct. 1995, 62–63
I retreated to the corridor of the hospital in Hong Kong to talk to our Heavenly Father in prayer. My mother was dying of cancer. My father had just suffered a heart attack and was in another hospital across town. I had stayed with him until he stabilized, then returned to be with my mother until my sister arrived to relieve me.
Standing in the hall, I felt the burden was almost more than I could bear. I prayed that my mother would not suffer any longer, but I also pleaded that both my parents would not be taken at that time. I prayed that my father would live at least two more years.
My mother had suffered greatly for a long time. The doctor told me there was nothing more he could do for her and that the end would be soon.
I looked at my watch. It was 8:30 P.M., and my sister still had not arrived. As I waited, I heard a voice say, “Go to your father. He is in grave danger.”
I brushed away the thought, for I had left him not long before and he had been much improved. Besides, I could not go until my sister arrived. The warning came again. “You must go immediately to save your father.” What should I do? It would take me half an hour to drive to the other hospital, and visiting hours would be over. Then the message came a third time.
I rushed to the elevator, praying again that my father would be given at least two more years before being taken. As I left the elevator, I saw my sister. “I have to save our father!” I told her as I rushed out the door.
I arrived at the hospital, but it was closed for the night and the lights were off. I finally gained entrance and found the nurse’s station. “I must see my father!” I explained. Against all rules, I was permitted to go on the floor. All was dark, but I used a flashlight to find the room. I went in, and as I passed the first bed, the patient tried to tell me something while pointing to the third bed where my father lay. I saw my father sitting up, choking and gasping for breath. He was beginning to turn blue. I saw that the oxygen tube had been disconnected and that he was suffocating. I summoned the nurse, who quickly reconnected the tube. My father’s face slowly returned to normal color.
My mother died two days later, but my father improved. The Lord had heard my heartfelt prayers and gave me the time with my father I had asked for. He passed away two years later.