I found his journal about our Europe tour. The journey took 43 days. He joked that it was like Hajj journey.
Looking at his handwritings bring thousands bittersweet memories. Like I could never receive any cards from him again. Or any sms, or any calls.
I remember clearly each experiences that we had together. He was an ardent history lover, while Mum and I both are enthuastic shoppers.
But what I remember most is: he hugged me tightly when he first arrived at Stansted Airport, and when he was about to leave Durham, in the Newcastle Airport.
And I cried damn hard on the way back home. I didn't know why, as I was about to go back to Malaysia for data collection in late July.
Ah, I miss him. Always. Alfatihah to my beloved Dad.