I recieved a call this morning from my mother informing me that my father, who I have not really had much contact with beyond a phone call once a year around Christmas, passed away yesterday. Apparently, he had esphogeal cancer and it was not diagnosed until the quite late, thus, not much could have been done. He hadn't told anyone until a few days ago and I didn't find out till this morning.
My parents divorced when I was 4 and my father was never a large part of my life. I feel quite placid about this, but there is an underlying sense of frustration that I wasn't able to at least talk to him one more time before passing.
Think I'll go buy some nice Scotch and take the rest of the week off.