I flew to Malaysia with Dad for a day and a half, where I assisted him with the servicing of some customers’ machines. It was warm and slightly foggy when we arrived, and after a quick drive through the city to the factory, I managed to deepen my impression of Kuala Lumpur, acknowledging that the city seemed like an amalgamation of a few places — the dust of Bangkok, the traffic of Indonesia and the highrise buildings of Singapore.
Dad was calm in the face of a hundred complications (and the stench of the rotting contents in the gearbox) and patient despite the obvious discomfort — the stabbing pain — he was experiencing from his condition with shingles.
“I’m so happy You’re here with me,” he told me as we had ‘dessert’ at a coffee shop across our hotel — I, a fresh kelapa muda (young coconut) and he, a steaming teh tarik — and the biggest smile spread across my face.
I love You and I love spending time with You, Papa.