In Chap­ter XXXVI, the fam­i­ly gath­ers around Pop­pa’s hos­pi­tal bed, a somber scene filled with anx­i­ety and love. Pop­pa appears unrec­og­niz­able, with his bald head wrapped in ban­dages and numer­ous med­ical devices con­nect­ed to him. Each fam­i­ly mem­ber holds onto some­one else’s hand as they inch clos­er to him. The atmos­phere is heavy; the pro­tag­o­nist strug­gles to breathe and fears her emo­tions might spill over as tears.

Grand­pa Bom­ba tries unsuc­cess­ful­ly to open a jar, and Rock­et helps him, let­ting out the famil­iar love song of Mom­ma and Pop­pa. The pro­tag­o­nist ten­der­ly touch­es Pop­pa’s face and reflects on the con­trast between Pop­pa’s sit­u­a­tion and that of a home­less man she once saw, who had no one to care for him. As she recalls Pop­pa’s fad­ed tat­too of a mer­maid – Miss Mer­maid – she feels a des­per­ate long­ing to con­nect with him and hear his thoughts.

Despite her attempts to lis­ten for the mer­maid­’s voice or any sign from Pop­pa, there is silence, ampli­fy­ing the sense of hope­less­ness. Fish and Sam­son rely on her to glean any insight, yet she’s unable to hear any­thing encour­ag­ing. Fish even­tu­al­ly walks out, fol­lowed by Mom­ma, leav­ing the pro­tag­o­nist lis­ten­ing to the relent­less beep­ing of machines.

In a moment of whis­pered encour­age­ment, she reas­sures Pop­pa that he has a “savvy,” empha­siz­ing his fight­ing spir­it. As she express­es her love and wish­es for his recov­ery, faint signs of response begin to emerge from Pop­pa. The room erupts in com­mo­tion as alarms sound and machines go hay­wire, sig­nal­ing a cri­sis. Despite the chaos, she per­sists in speak­ing to him, urg­ing him to wake up and come home to ful­fill promis­es like build­ing a porch swing.

As Pop­pa’s fin­gers twitch and his eyes flut­ter open in response to her voice, a wave of hope floods the room, sig­nal­ing that all might be well again. The chap­ter con­cludes on a hope­ful note, con­nect­ing love, fam­i­ly, and the mag­ic of belief in moments of despair.