Its been a long time since I talked to my father, or so it seems to me. I actually talked to him a couple of weeks ago. He sounded like he had a respiratory tract infection. I got a call from my uncle who is in New York yesterday. He was disappointed with the fact that I hadn’t called him up in a long time.
The reason why I am not good at calling people is that, when I talk, I can do nothing else. There is always something to do. Also, I am free to call people after about 10 pm, and then some folks are already in bed, so I hesitate to call them. I also get mightily turned off when I call someone and get the engaged tone.
Calling India can be a pain too, and with my Father, I never get it right. Sometimes the card doesn’t work, and sometimes I get through and the phone keeps ringing and no one picks it up. I will start calling more often, where there’s a will, there’s a way. I miss him too, lately.
I would rather not write the part about how I feel awful at not being able to help him live his retired life in comfort. My sister mails me these days, and it hurts to know that her life is not on a roll either. Hmm, well, I had counted on having to feel all this, and more, once I came here. So here it is, all mine to feel about.