Hi…God. Dear God, I think that maybe it’s too late now to come to you. I don’t know what to say since it’s been a while since I last talked to you. I can’t even remember when that was. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’ve done to be stricken by an illness like this. Just like the wind, I know one day I will stop blowing but I hope my children will not feel my absence. Of course, they will. They will remember me when they stare at the lounging chair in front of the television. They will remember me when they see table tennis rackets and automobiles. They will remember me when somebody says something negative about their choice of changing their religion. They will remember me in courts of justice and black robes. They will remember me in weddings and ceremonies but I hope that I have loved them enough, God, for them not to forget me. For them to understand why I told them there were sharks in places where sharks had no access, why I told them that having a boyfriend is not a priority but I also insisted on my eldest child to have a boyfriend soon, why I wanted one of them to become a lawyer even if that was not her dream. I hope she sees and understands. I hope they forgive me for being a very strict father but they would understand why I was and now that they’re getting older, I hope to see the work that you and I have done with them. I want to see them live their lives with their husbands and children and that they are all genuinely happy in their respective homes. I hope their husbands will love them the way I love and took care of them. I may not have told you all this but I hope you’d give me that chance to see that they will all be okay without me.