I have barely slept. If one can call closing eyes sleeping at all, I might have counted a whopping two hours of sleep this bizarre night.

I write with pain in my heart that yesterday, 18 July, between 20:30 and 21:00, my father is no longer here. After a long period of battling with illnesses, having had close calls with death before from a leaking aorta, and pneumonia, he made his slow walk to the door of death, and he stepped over the threshold. He died a natural death.

For three years, he had been sick at home, and the family and I had done everything we possibly could to offer him the help he needed. Most of it may have been too little too late, as he ran out of his energy to keep going on when he came back after his last hospitalisation when he suffered pneumonia. Since then, it became increasingly prevalent that he quite simply gave up.

Right now. I still cannot quite fathom what has happened. What I'm supposed to do with this. I've imagined it time and time again that this day would eventually happen, but now that it's happened, it feels like he took just one, almost unremarkable, step out of life.

There's a thing that people say that successes slowly happen over time, and disasters happen all at once. Sometimes, it's just the other way around.

I haven't written a lot in the past few months. I don't think I'll be writing much more in the time after this either. I think I will be back here to submit new works of Joey's Short Stories some time after I have processed this, and hopefully make something much better out of it. I think that it deserves to be finished.

That's all.