One Month

• It has been one months since my father died.  Maybe because I returned to China two weeks after it happened, it seems like it happened so much longer ago than a month.  And yet memories from that day are still sharp.  The last time I told anyone about it, I still got choked up.
• I hate to say it but coming back to China has not offered me any solace.  It has been the condolences sent by some of my rare readers have kept me going.  Thank God for the Internet because for a person like me, it is my small Internet presence that gives me some satisfaction.
• I know, I sound like I am whining or being bitter.  I know I shouldn't be.  I know I have a lot of things to be guilty about, things for which I have no one but myself to blame.  
• The following photo of me and my Dad was taken probably in the 1970s.  The photo has so much meaning for me that I don't where to start.  It explains so much about the relationship I had with my father.  First, he was Superman; then, he wasn't.   And where did I go off the rails?

• I am happy to say that I earned redemption, somewhat, through Jenny and Tony.