“He was seriously ill” said my older brother on the phone.
At that time I had just graduated from university. It was the first year I worked. I remembered that I talked to him. When I have some money, I’ll pick up our family travel to everywhere in Thailand. But something that my brother said on the phone make me worry.
I decided to go home. Actually not home but to the hospital. He lay on a bed, couldn’t speak because of a oxygen mask. First time he met me, he try to say something to me but he can’t. We look at each other’s eyes and then he pulled me to his chest. I can’t remembered how long we embraced. That moment made me felt like a child again. It’s was a warm embrace even though his arms are not as powerful as before.
A week at hospital. Without talking, just look at each other’s eyes. His time came on that night. No order, no speech, no farewell, no whistling and no sound of singing from him. There’s only tears in my eyes and his last breath.
It’s 12 years, 1 month and 9 days that he passed away. No one will see him again in the rice field, backyard, on that road, in the small hut or house but he is in our memory.
Dad, I miss you so much.