A shopping list of memories.

I'm still holding his hand. His hand that feels cool and dry now. The hand that used to have so much life in it and now it doesn't. The machines beeping around us relentlessly. Every breath he takes, every heartbeat is being tracked. His breathing regular because of the ventilator. After hours of sitting here, telling him everything I have to tell, running out of things to tell him because there is no response, no question, no reaction, my mind begins to wander... "Dad", I say suddenly, "if I could, I would get you everything on this shopping list.

A plate of roulades with cabbage. Because that's what the nurse at the hospital offered you when I was born and your wife was in the operating room and you were so nervous and couldn't believe that anyone would offer you such a heavy German meal when your stomach felt all queasy.

A baby bottle. Because when mom and I got home from the hospital after the cesarean, you fed me every day with the bottle. Mom couldn't feed me because she was sick. You took care of me and I felt safe with you and didn't cry.

A little sandman doll. Because that's what I got as my first stuffy at the hospital. A little sandman with a white beard and a red cap, green pants and a yellow shirt and a bright smile stitched on his face. You would pull the string in the back and it would play a Good night song and soothe me to sleep. And you would make up stories about my little sandman that you would tell me every evening. Every day he went on a different, big adventure and you taught me how to let my imagination run wild, imagine adventures all around me.

A picture of a sunflower. Because I remember going to your office in Stuttgart for the first time so that you could show me where you worked. And I was so happy to see my watercolor picture of a bright yellow sunflower in front of a blue sky hanging right above your desk. I felt proud that you wanted to hang my picture right above your desk. Your office was kind of dark and beige-brown in color and this picture cheered it up so much.

A little donkey. Because we used to go on vacations to the Northern German coast to visit your sister and I'd ride the donkey named Elfriede. Elfriede, who preferred to eat all the grass instead of walking along with you. They had handed us a stick to make her go, but we didn't want to hit her and so we just laughed and laughed as Elfriede refused to move and kept eating grass.

A book of German fairy tales. Because although you worked all day at the office, when you came home, you always made time for me. You memorized a different fairy tale out of your grandma's old book every evening and you would tell me all the creepy fairy tales while I safely lay in your arm. I felt cozy, despite the scary stories.

A can of herring in tomato sauce with a slice of bread. Because that used to be our favorite snack. Mom would wrinkle her nose at the stinky fish when we opened the can and carefully divided the contents out onto our plates, then eat it with a crispy slice of German bread, wiping up the leftover tomato sauce when we were done.

A bike. You taught me how to ride my bike on that warm spring day at the soccer field. You ran behind me, until I felt safe enough to ride my little pink bike myself around the field. There were some horses in the pasture next to the soccer field and once I felt a little more secure and didn't pay that much attention anymore, I was watching the horses instead of looking where I was going and rode my little pink bike right into the soccer goal. Crash! But you came running and dried my tears and helped me back up and back onto my bike so I could keep going. We went on so many bike rides together. You pushed me up the steep hills when I couldn't pedal anymore and you fixed my chain when it fell off. And one time we had to walk home for 2 hours because my bike had broken and we talked and laughed the entire walk home.

An ear of corn. Because we used to grab an ear of corn right from the field. The old farmer would tell us to grab one and take it home, smiling. Nothing tastes as good as that one ear of corn you broke off yourself, boiled in water with some melted butter on top. You'd wrap it in some aluminum foil for me so I could touch the hot corn.

A comic book. Because you gave me those old Disney comic books and we would spend hours going through them and laughing and looking at every little detail.

A Where's Waldo book. Because aside from looking through comic books, looking for Waldo was our other fun activity. You would check the right side of the book, I would check the left and we yelled out when we finally found Waldo: "I found him!"

A puzzle. We spent so many weekends doing all kinds of different puzzles together. I remember the one with the big public swimming pool. Kids running with ice cream, parents trying to get some sun lotion on their kids, water spraying and a dog running through the chaotic scene as well... We discovered all of the details together.

A vacuum cleaner. Because when I got older, you showed me how to vacuum and clean your car and you would pay me if I cleaned yours. I always did an extra thorough job and getting that little payment for my hard work felt great.

A CD with classical music. Because every weekend you would play classical music when we ate breakfast. You would tell me the stories of Peer Gynt and Peter and the Wolf and I could hear the stories coming alive through the music.

A box of German cookies. Because every weekend in the afternoon, you would make yourself a big, steaming cup of coffee and we would share a small plate of different cookies. Some with chocolate, some with nuts, every single cookie better than the one before. Some with little pictures in the chocolate that we would discover and talk about. "Can you see the Brandenburg gate on this one?"

Trips to the store together. Every Saturday we would go and you would put me in the big shopping cart and we would go all around the store picking out the things we needed. Talking about new discoveries and pointing out well known staples we needed to buy again.

Vanilla sauce. Long walks together in the fall and winter, long walks out in the fields with a cold breeze blowing our hair around. It felt so good to walk back into the warm house. We would grab some apples and core them, fill them with nuts and raisins and cover them in cinnamon and vanilla sauce before we would bake them. The scent of vanilla with cinnamon and apple filling the house and making us feel warm again, still talking about our discoveries on the walk. The geese all fat in the pasture, ready for St Martin's Day.

A lantern. You helped me make my first lantern out of construction paper. Cutting out areas of the construction paper until the shape of a cat became visible. Putting see through, colorful paper behind the cut out areas and finally adding a spot for a little tealight in the middle and a wooden stick to carry the lantern safely. We would meet up with all the other families from my kindergarten group and you would light the tealight and ask me to carry my lantern carefully through the night. Making sure nothing caught on fire. I could feel the warmth of the lantern on my face. And we would sing all the German lantern walking songs before we would share a cup of peppermint tea at the end.

A kite. Because one of my funniest memories is grabbing the Mickey Mouse kite and walking outside across the fields with you on that windy, grey fall day. You held the kite and told me it was hard to hold on to it because of the strong wind, but I wanted to hold it myself. And so you let me, but you warned me one last time and my little fingers wrapped around the yellow handle and I looked up at Mickey Mouse and then the yellow handle was ripped from my hand by the wind and I screamed and we ran after the kite that wouldn't stop. It crossed a highway and kept flying and flying until we couldn't see it no more. I was sad, but at night we suddenly saw the kite caught in an apple tree not far from our house. We recovered it the next day and I let you hold on to it the next time the wind was too rough.

A photo album. Because we used to love looking through our old pictures. Starting with pictures from your childhood. Peter, the little black cat you used to have. You on a bike and with your sister. Baby pictures of me, pictures taken on my first day of school and when I graduated from university. Pictures taken of us right before I boarded the plane to immigrate to the USA, building my life over there. Tears shed and so many memories together. You have always loved to look back, share old memories, while my mom and I love to look forward, imagine what the future brings. But I think I understand now. All of these memories and good times had together... I wished we could add some more happy memories.

I hear noises outside the room. Nurses going in and out of rooms, assisting patients and speaking to worried family members. Busy feet, going back and forth in the hallway. "I will be back tomorrow, Dad. I need you. I love you, Dad." I get up, walk to the door and look back at him one more time. "Please wake up...", I whisper, a tear burning in my eye and then rolling down my cheek as I softly close the door behind me with a shaking hand.