Happy Father's Day: a promise made and a gift received

Happy Father's Day, by first-time author Virginia Madison, is available for Father's Day 2020.
An easy read, this book will touch anyone who has experienced a close bond with a loved one.
The descriptive writing transports the reader into each scene and you feel that you are there experiencing the events and emotions in person.
If you have lost someone you love dearly, and are looking for someone that may understand how you feel, you are not alone.
This book is for you.

Fifteen years ago, my dad passed away.
I made a promise to my mother and myself, someday I would honor him the way he deserved.
He was a fantastic father, a loving husband, a fun and caring soul.
Nine years slipped by since he passed away, this promise was kept safely in my heart.
The memories of him were tucked away in a sacred place, not to be opened up, and not to be tampered with.
One day, I stood in front of the vast, massive, and spectacular Pacific Ocean, I was overwhelmed and moved.
I knew I was ready to act on this promise.
Without having any plans where I was heading or where the end was to be, for the next six years I was writing about my father, one story followed by another.
During this journey and exploration, I opened up some of the most devastating memories in my life and let them rip me apart, eventually confronting and reconciling with them.
Finally, I was able to be gentle to them, and be gentle to myself.

*Condolences*
Shortly after you passed away, many had come to me and asked how you died and what had happened in detail.
Some might conclude, "so he was sick, that makes sense."
Some commented "it was better he died before you and your family invested too much money in treatment."
That did not help.
Indeed, that hurt.

What might have made me feel better, was that I believed everyone was trying to help, trying to offer condolences.
I wished someone could just simply say "let me know if there is anything I can do", or just look me in the eyes letting me know that you understand.
No one has to say anything really, and there is not really much to say.
I wished others could understand there is no need to justify your death.

No matter how old you were, you were too young to die.
No matter how much it cost, it was worth all the money we had to buy another day with you.
I genuinely wish others could understand how that feels, without having to lose their own loved ones.

What matters was, you died.
A huge part of me died also.

*Milk Tea*
I loved your milk tea.

You made sure it was on your agenda to make milk tea every day when I came home during Christmas.
It was the priority on your shopping list getting the ingredients needed, condensed milk and two kinds of tea bags, the Rickshaw(R), and the Lipton(R).

If any of the items ran out, you refilled them on a daily basis during my stay at home.
Your milk tea was rich, it had a strong tea flavor and was well complimented by the smoothness of the milk.
It was perfection.

As I was indulging in and being mesmerized by the milk tea you just prepared, you told me that there was a lot of effort behind the scenes into making this right.
You even used stockings to filter out the micro tea leaves in order to guarantee the super silky texture of your creation.

"Stockings ? "
I woke up from my tea coma immediately.
"Please don't tell me it is mom's stockings," I said.

"Don't worry, I washed them beforehand," you said.

Wishing that I could simply unhear that, I continued to pour milk tea down my throat.

Till now, I still wondered whether you did use mom's stockings.
And yet, I still never had a better milk tea.