Well that did not last long ... I lost my father recently. He would have been 83 in April.
My usual conversation with him would be about his exploits when he was younger. He liked to tell that to anyone who is willing to listen. I followed along with him as if I had only heard it for the first time, even though he had told them numerous times before.
His favourite to tell was the time he went to Honolulu to teach Bahasa Melayu to future Peace Corp volunteers. That was in the late 60s. From Hawaii, he went on to San Francisco and then to New York, before returning home. I was about 9 or 10 yo at that time. Later, after he had returned, I remembered that a few of the volunteers that he taught visited us at home. Unfortunately, I can only remember one that we used to call Uncle Bill; can't remember his actual name now.
Our last conversation was about how he was made to learn Japanese when the country was occupied during WWII. He rattled off some Japanese pharases that he could still remember and even sang a few lines from the songs that they were taught to sing.
I will cherish those moments.
Goodbye and al-Fatihah.