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The Father Who Was Absent, and the Sentence That Stayed
Today, in 2002, my father passed away. Twenty-four years. It is strange how time behaves when someone important has died. The calendar moves. Life continues. Work happens. Children grow older. Your own face changes in the mirror. And yet, somewhere inside, certain memories remain untouched by time. They do not age in the same way. They sit quietly in us. Not always asking for attention. Not always causing pain. But still there. My father was, in many ways, an absent father. T
Ivan Lim
May 316 min read
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