To my surprise, a very dear friend suddenly asked me that question. I was caught off-guard. But it’s really a good question. Strangely enough, I have never given it much thought until I heard that question. It took me a moment of pause before I could answer. I was thinking of good memories with my dad. I was surprised to realize that, somehow, I have enough good memories about him. It’s been years already since my dad passed away and whenever I think about him, I always wish he’s still alive. My dad, when he was alive, is always busy. He leaves home early and comes home late. We don’t get to see him that much until he got sick and was forced to stay home. That’s when I got enough time to talk to my dad. I saw him crying once. He told me that my mom was mad at him. He upset my mom and it upset him that my mom was mad at him. He didn’t like arguments. I remember one time when my youngest sister and I had a quarrel; our dad called us both and tried to remind us of the line in The Lord’s Prayer: “And forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sinned against us…” My dad never wanted to see us quarreling with each other. My dad, in his own way, was very kind – a good person, I must say. I had a dog that I raised when I was eight-years-old. I personally looked after my dog since he’s a puppy and I spoiled him. One day, on my way home from school, I received the news from a kid who’s playing in the streets that my dog is dead. I was in disbelief. At first, I thought the kid was joking, but I saw in his face that he isn’t (‘and where would that joke come from if it’s really a joke?’ I thought at the back of my head as I ran home). I didn’t want to believe it because I had just seen my dog earlier that morning before I left for school. I hurried home, with a growing fear and anxiety building inside me, to confirm it. I remember being scared to know the real answer, but I put on a brave act and tried to smile as I asked my mom, looking her straight in the eye: “Is my dog really dead?” Then, to my horror, she said “Yes”. My dad was there, but I didn’t look at him. After hearing my mom’s reply, I could no longer keep the brave act so I ran to our room that I shared with my mom and dad. I was so upset. I was crying my heart out when I noticed my mom followed me, then my dad. I learned later on that it was my dad who asked my mom to follow me to see if I’m alright. (If in case people are wondering why my dad needed to ask my mom to follow and comfort me, I must explain that we are not emotionally showy people, so we might seem cold to other people that are observing from a distance, but we care about each other just like normal family do.) As to the whereabouts of my dog’s body when he died, my mom told me she gave it to the drunkards who asked for it. The drunkards ate my dog. My mom explained to me later on that she gave my dog’s body to the drunkards because she’s afraid that other animals would dig my dog’s grave if I request to have my dog be buried in our backyard. Yes, my mom is practical that way. I didn’t see my dog’s body. Maybe it’s for the best. My dad tried to comfort me by lending to me his Walkman. The Walkman was my dad’s favorite gadget, so I really appreciated his gesture. Those are some of my fondest memories of my dad. It’s my regret that I didn’t even tell my dad how much I appreciate him. Well, I really wished I realized how much I appreciate him long before he passed away. I hope now he knows. I miss my dad; I really miss him a lot.