The thought.

"My dad.." she continued, they are taking invisible turn to tell story about whats our parents like when skype -ing. "My dad before i could asked him anything, the fon would be at my mom" she laughed  wholeheartedly and we all too.

"My dad too" Another girl said.
"Mine too" and another,, everyone in the rooms seems  to agree- that dad hardly spoke with them, and its the  mom who is always on the phone.

"Not my dad" i heard a voice in my mind. Yes dad was different, he could chat with us all day long. And i would tell him how was snow, how cold it was surviving the winter season  and even, i would tell him about what I have learned in school. Perhaps. But nobody knows.

 I want to say it out loud, "not my dad" but i am afraid I will ruin the mood, also, i avoid telling people about my dad, because i dont want people to think i try to get their sympathy. So i kept quiet.

I kept quiet but in my mind, im busy thinking what its like, if he is still alive. Maybe i can join them then, excitedly telling whts my dads  like. Im not sad, i think i need to tell you that. The thought of my dad sometimes makes me sad, but not that day.

then, this girl came from the kitchen, she has lost both her prents, i knew she heard everything all along as the kitchen is connected with the room we're  sitting , but she also kept quiet. Listening to others' story and laugh along, i dont know whtas in her mind, did she feel sad? Did she also busy thinking like me?

May my dad and her parents rest in peace.