Today is Father’s Day in Thailand and I’ve never felt any lonelier. I see friends from back home update their statuses on social media about their fathers. When he was still alive, my dad joined Facebook early last year and was a relative newbie to social media. It was cute seeing his posts about things he was interested in. He just didn’t quite understand social media etiquette, he would constantly comment on my posts and get upset when I didn’t respond to him as fast as he wanted me to. “Come on, dad,” I would think,” I’ll get back to you when I want to.” Two weeks went by of me ignoring his Facebook notifications until I finally felt like updating him about my life and being his little girl again. It was then in September of 2013 that I received a phone call from my brother informing me that my dad was sent to a hospital and in the ICU. My mom told me to book a plane ticket immediately because she and dad needed me by their side. I jumped on the first plane out, I hated that it took me almost one day to travel as when I finally made it home I was just one day too late. He didn’t make it.

No one thinks to pack clothes for a funeral when rushing to see a loved one in the hospital. You think, “They will pull through, they will recover, we’ll have a family trip somewhere. This is just an episode. It’s just a scare.” It’s been over a year now and not a day goes by that I don’t think about him, or miss him and wish very much that he was still around. Whenever I struggle, I want to ask him for his opinions. I want him to tell me what I should do or even tell me everything is going to be okay. That day will never come. It’s so painful to think of someone knowing that there is nothing you can do to see them again. I wish I had called him sooner… I would have found out what he wanted to tell me so badly. Instead I look at his last Facebook messages, “Call me now. I have something to tell you, Love, your dad.” and the one before this one, “I received your book. I love it. Thanks.” I wish that he could have waited for me, and that I could have seen him one last time.

I used to like this song from Green Day, Wake Me Up When September Ends. It wasn’t a song I could relate to lyrically in my early 20s, I think I just enjoyed the feeling of angst when I first heard it. Now it carries a different meaning ever since September 4th. Since he left us.

Like my father’s come to pass, seven years has gone so fast

Wake me up when September ends.

Here comes the rain again, falling from the stars

Drenched in my pain again, becoming who we are

As my memory rests, but never forgets what I lost

Wake me up when September ends

Since today is Father’s Day in Thailand, I want my dad to know how proud I am to be his daughter. I hope that he knows how sorry I am for taking him for granted. Thank you for being my dad, and for the great memories that we shared. You will forever be in my heart. You finally get to rest, daddy. Don’t worry about anything.

Your daughter.