Letter to dad...

Asked why I am spending a few hours handwriting a letter to dad, I said because it is something I　want to do, something that I feel I must do.

Whether dad will ever receive it, will ever read it, or whether dad even exists in the afterlife, does not really matter. In my mind, he is still around, he is still there when I think about him, when I recall his smile, his words, his smell. He is still alive in the way that I write so beautifully (...if I may say so myself...), in the way I am introverted, in the way I care about others but have a hard time sometimes expressing directly. He is me in many ways, and I continue to live and carry on living because of dad.

When the letter incinerates in the fire together, maybe the words, ink and paper will just vanish into ash and dust, and maybe all the time and thought I put into writing will have literally gone up in flames. Maybe dad will "receive" it, and be happy to receive news from me.

But I am glad that I managed to write down my thoughts, my feelings, and my worries.