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My father has passed away.

I am on my way to Saskatoon now. It was sudden and unexpected, a result of a surgery he told me he might have but which he said wouldn’t be serious. It was serious, and a couple of days after it, he slipped away in the night. He did not suffer, which is a help to know.

I wish I’d gone home for my holida; not doing so was a decision I think I will regret forever, though I am trying not to feel guilty about it. We could have seen one another one more time, and I missed that chance, out of simple stupidity. Guilt, as I told Lime, is a poison and it’s not what he would have wanted. But I wish I could have had that last chance to see him again. I wish I had even just called him, to talk with him, after the surgery I didn’t even know he’d had.

Damn it.

As it was, I was both impressed by those along the way who sympathetically helped Lime and myself back to Korea, offering refunds on this and that, and at the same time quite shocked at how callous others could be, refusing to help someone get home to a funeral. But the good won out and I am one short flight from home now.

I miss him even more than I did when only distance separated us. I’ve lost him, and won’t see him again in this old, ragged world.

Nothing more to say for now, and I expect it might be a little bit of a long “now”.

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