Nine years since he’s gone, I think about Dad less and less every year, I guess it’s just the way it is.
He still appears on my dreams once in a while, in them, he is still alive and around.
I remember our road trips during school holidays – usually to Bali.
Driving from Surabaya to Bali back in those days was around 8 hours I think. I remember the long ferry queue between Ketapang – Gilimanuk.
Mom told me that he did like driving, although as he got older (and plane tickets cheaper), those long drives eventually ceased.
Our longest road trip, was from Surabaya to Jakarta. It was just me and him, and pretty sure that’s the only road trip with just the two of us.
From memory, mum and sister had gone first by plane.
I was pretty young back then, probably 10 years old.
I remember bringing a lot of Donal Bebek and Bobo magazines – just in case I won’t have anything to do (ah, those good old days before gadgets) – didn’t end up doing much reading though.
I remember food is sweeter in Central Java – I think we had Soto in Kudus, which was sweet tasting unlike the in East Java where food tend to be salty.
We stopped and stayed overnight in Solo or Jogjakarta (which is midway between Surabaya and Jakarta).
The only memory I had about this stay is something that involved toilet – so I better stop it there.
Weird thing is, I don’t remember the trip back. Ah, all of these memories, they won’t be whole again. They will remain as fragments and sometimes I don’t even remember which fragments belong together.
What would my boys remember of our time together I wonder, what would be their treasured moments – what would be the fragments that they hold into long after I am gone.