A year ago, I would go into a mild anxiety state when the date of my departure drew closer than 30 days. I would rack my brains to think of places to go, food to eat and just ways to spend time with him before i fly off again. I knew that every time I flew off, I was saying goodbye to more than just physical presence. Because the silence that lay ahead was inevitable.
Now that I didn't have to worry about it, I should kind of look forward to going off, and finishing up my degree.
Except, that something else sits at the back of my mind.
The thought of returning home, and finding that he's no longer here.
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