Jobs confided to his daughter: “I am so glad that you can come”

Sleve Jobs and his founding Apple are undoubtedly a legendary technology company, a great man who has changed the world, leaving four children. His eldest daughter is Lisa Brennan Jobs, the eldest daughter of the four children of Jobs who was not recognized. But Jobs said that the years she lived with him was the best time of her life. Through Lisa’s eyes, we can see a little girl grow up alone and stubbornly. She can also see how Steve Jobs, a business outside of business, is paranoid, genius, nervous and sensitive in life. Lisa wrote her life with her father’s 30-year-old love story in the book “Little People: My Father and My Jobs.” The following text is taken from the book “Lisa, Sorry” in the book. The background of the story is that Jobs is suffering from cancer.

In the movie, people always say something embarrassing before they die. But this is not a movie, it is a real life. I walked through the room and stopped at the threshold of my father’s study (now changed to his bedroom). There is a photo taken by Harold Egerton in the study. In the photo, an apple was pierced by bullets and the edge of the bullet hole was blown up. I wandered into his room and my father was sitting on the pillow. His legs are thin and white, like two sweater needles. There are many photo frames on the chest of drawers, each facing the direction of the bed. The drawers of the chest of drawers were all the same, and I found out that each drawer had his paintings and photos. There is only one person in the room. He is awake and seems to be waiting for me. Seeing me, he smiled.

“I am so glad that you can come,” said the father. His enthusiasm made me feel soft. He shed tears. Before my father became ill, I only saw him crying twice, once at his father’s funeral; another time at the cinema to watch “Paradise Cinema”. At the end of the film, he cried, and I mistakenly thought he was shaking. “This is the last time you saw me,” he said to me. “You have to let me go.”

“Okay.” I responded to him. Having said that, I don’t believe it, and I don’t think my father will die in a month. I have no idea, I don’t know how long he can live. I sat on the bed and stayed with him. “When you were young, I didn’t get along with you,” he said to me. “I wish we had time to get along.”

“Nothing.” I told him. At this moment, he is not only weak but also emotionally vulnerable. I lay down and faced my father.

“No, no. I haven’t been able to spend more time with you.” He continued. “I should spend more time with you. But it is too late now.”

“It’s all gone.” I advised him. Having said that, I am not sure. I recently realized that I was very lucky, because when I met my father, he was not famous all over the world. At that time, his body was very healthy and he could take me out for roller skating. I used to think that he spent a lot of time with others, but I only rarely accompany me, but now I don’t think so. He looked at my eyes and shed tears and said, “I owe you.” I don’t know how to respond to him. On that weekend, he told me over and over again: “I owe you, I am owed to you…” I looked at him when he woke up in a nap, he cried every time, and he repeated this sentence every time. . And what I want, I think he owes me is in his family, I should have a clear place.

In addition to the nurses who work shifts every six hours, there are only two fathers and daughters in the family.

Several people came to visit him, all of whom were former colleagues. There are also a few people who don’t know him, too, and some are holding bags, some are empty, and they are squatting in the yard. A person wearing a sari asked to see him. Someone went straight into the gate and said that he was specially seen from Bulgaria by plane. A group of people gathered at the side door, first gathered together to speak, and then dispersed.

“Can you remember the dream you have done?” I asked him. I lay on his bed, and he woke up while sleeping.

“can.”

“Can you remember?”

“Most of it.”

“What have you dreamed of?”

“Most of it is work,” he replied. “In my dreams, I am always convincing others to believe me.”

“Thank you for what?”

“Trust my thoughts.”

“Is the idea that comes to mind when I dream?”

“Sometimes. In a dream, usually I can’t convince them. They are too stupid to understand me.”

“Do you think this way? In a dream.”

“Yes,” he replied, then fell asleep again.