We’re going, Dad. We’re going to Bangkok.

I talk to Dad as if he is still alive.

“We’re going, Dad. We’re going to Bangkok.” I talk to Dad as if he is still alive.

I slipped the necklace over my head, the heart-shaped pendant where Dad is resting against my chest. “I guess we are going, Dad,” I rumbled to myself.

The last-minute packing had left me exhausted, and I wasn’t even sure if I would be able to leave the fur babies with my partner, considering our major disagreements. We had called it quits more than once, yet he kept trying to fix ‘us’.

After Dad died, it feels like I am losing everyone, and I am tired, exhausted, and lost.

Maybe this trip will take me away from all that is bothering me and give me a fresh perspective on what life is all about. After locking my luggage and checking my waist bag for my passport, I was ready.

It’s my first time in Thailand.

And as far as I can remember, Dad never got the chance to travel there. Most of his travels were for his photography, and sometimes he asked me to join him.

The last time we did that was in Singapore, long before he got sick, long before the pandemic, and long before the family he left behind was torn apart.