This time last year, I was in a daze. Jean, my brother’s wife, had called a few hours ago, saying my dad had passed away. I had then made my way from travel agent to travel agent, trying to get air tickets for KL.
No one really knew the exact time my father died. It could have been the night of 29/11/2006, instead of the morning of 30/11/2006. When my mother found him on the floor early in the morning and cried for help from an uncle, it was obvious that he had died for several hours already.
Tom, an uncle (my father’s younger brother) was in Malaysia on holiday at that time. He has lived in Sydney for more than 20 years but regularly spent his holiday in Malaysia. He was there a few days before my father died, and saw my father in the hospital. My father looked well at that time, apparently. He was the one who responded to my mother and found him on the floor at home that morning.
Time heals all wounds. Some wounds take longer than others but over time, most wounds get healed. I don’t know how long it’s going to take to heal this one. While it no longer hurts like it did in the beginning, it hasn’t completely healed.
Ante 