If I had any readers then they may have noticed my absence. Despite the aphorism about the heart growing fonder, prolonged absence rarely improves a relationship.

Mum, me and Dad. In Mwadui.

My father died this week. Death is the one absence that we can predict even if we live as if it will not happen to us or our loved ones.

My father was ill and his death did not come as a shock. It gave me time to say some last words to him. We had a troubled relationship, defined by his absence more that presence. But my last words to him were ones that I hope gave him comfort and the chance to look back on his life when he was present for me.

In his absence, I have his memory. Until I too am absent.