“In his condition, you’ll have to take him home business class,” the doctor in Beijing had said. “Bring sleeping pills.”
As we boarded our flight back home to Washington, D.C., I steered my dad toward business class, while my husband continued with my mother and two young daughters toward coach.
Dad started to follow them. I pulled him toward our premium seats, “We’re sitting here.”
Puzzled, he looked toward our family walking away.
“Abby!” he called out to my 8-year old.
“Huei-Chen!” he called to my mother.
“Shhhhh,” I said. “our seats …