On my father's loss

I would like to thank this blogging community for all your condolences and solidarity on my tragic bereavement. I am currently in Japan, and waiting to come home soon. I would like to share a few thoughts with you all.
I was only recently in Bhutan. I came back to Japan for my studies on 28th March. On 29th, I reported to my university and my professor.
That night, I didn't have any premonition, but I was just feeling lazy and lonely. To keep myself occupied, I started writing my last article "A daughter's love" for this blog. I had just finished it when my phone rang.
I heard the terrible news. I could not believe it. I thought it was a dream. This couldn't be true. I prayed. Alone in my room far away from home.
The next day I called home again. Then I called my professor for permission to go home again, and then made my flight reservations. I am waiting to fly home on 4th April.
"Human life is impermanent. It is certain that we will die, but it is only not certain when. What has happened cannot be undone. So please be strong and take care of yourself in a foreign land. We will do what needs to be done here." thus my two elder brothers consoled me. Their words made it a little easier to bear the tragedy.
However, what pains me most now is that my father worked so hard to make our life a little better than his own; but we the children could not give him anything in return. And now it is too late. Dear friends, please don't let it happen to you.
Every father works hard for his children but I feel that it was a little extra-ordinary in my father's case. As he had inherited only a small land in the main village, he started with barely anything but a piece of untilled land at a place called Menchhari on the periphery of the main village of Bartsham. He tilled it, made his own piped water supply from a long distance, constructed a house, cultivated some cash crops, went to sell them himself, reared cows, and cut wood for other's house constructions to bring up seven children and send four of us to school.
Above all, he instilled in all of us a sense of responsibility, honesty, hard work and integrity. It is his advices, encouragement and example that has made us complete our education and lead honest, and more comfortable life than he could ever live. All the money that he earned was through his sweat. He would wake up early and work till dark, with only little short rests. When he was at home, he would either make ropes or stitch clothes on his old sewing machine. Because of this, I used to read books and study hard in school thinking that even if I worked half as hard as my parents did at home, I would do quite well.
When I traveled with him, he would tell me stories of his life and Buddhism, and give me advices to lead a life of honesty and integrity. Often, we would see him risen very early and reciting "kathang dipa" (prayer of life story of Guru Rinpochhe) from his memory before starting his day. His understanding of Buddhism was also profound. He had also built a small Mani Dungkhor near our house to turn during leisure.
Our village Menchhari used to have at least 10 to 12 households few years ago. Of late, most of these households had moved away to the towns or near roads and my parents used to be the only permanent dwellers there. We (children) asked them to come and live with us many times, but we could not prevail as they always insisted that they were happier there.
But now, I heard that the forest fire which took away my father's life has also burnt the entire pipe bringing water to Menchhari, the village where I ran free, shot arrows during Losar and grew up. With my father gone, it seems that the village is also set to once more return to the domain of the jungles. It is sad, but I take solace in the fact that this is how the cycle of existence must continue as Buddhism teaches.
My father always lived for his children. Some years ago, he helped in the construction of the house for my eldest brother, who is the Gup in my village now. Then he helped build a small house for my younger sister who lives in the village too. This year, he was going to help build a house for my elder sister. He also solely supported four of us until the end of our higher education.
The last time I talked with him on the telephone, he asked me about the job of my youngest sister. I told him that her job as an engineer in a Government Department is secure and respectable. I hope that gave him a little satisfaction.
Our father has left us, but he will always live in us (his children). But I regret that I could have done a little more for him than what little I had done. Now it is too late for me. So dear readers, please don't wait too long to return love to your parents as best as you can, and don't make the same mistake that I did.