To this day, September 23, it has been five years since my father’s death. Whew! Time is faster than I thought it was. It felt like it was just some Sundays ago when I had to be brave at the face of my father’s fight on his death bed. But it doesn’t disturb me now when I try to remember how I quivered during those sleeplessness nights at the wake because during that time, the sheer size of what just happened (one father’s death, that is) felt all so surreal that I thought I was moving in some ghastly, lonely piece of literature. Yep, I could say I’m done with those sick, sad episodes now. But not the pensive remembrance of my father.
What objects make you remember your father, whether alive or not?
I made a list of those things which remind me of my father. Some of these can still make me cry.
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20 something, quarter-life crisis, loss of love, name it, nothing's weird.
