I was thirteen years old when my father passed away.
I can still remember the last time I saw him alive. I was going back to my school where I was boarding and I was looking at his receding image as my ride carried me away. He was standing at the side of the road waving goodbye, smiling, but his eyes could not betray his pain inside. It was one of the most touching moments of my life that left a deep scar of loneliness in my heart.
That was 35 years ago but I still miss him, especially this Father's Day. I miss his colorful stories, his warm laughter and his reassuring embrace.
I just want to be quiet today. Somehow, I am hoping that Papa will speak to me today though the wind or the rain or through my heartbeat.