Whenever I see a body of water, I remember my father. He was a seafarer and he was always on a voyage. He died of cancer when I was 12. Though it was a long time ago, I can still remember with clarity the dream I had on the first night of his death. We were both standing on a nameless port. Behind him was an enormous ship where he was to embark on his voyage to nowhere. Although I didn’t know in my dream that he was already dead in real life, I felt the finality in the hug when we said our goodbyes. As I was looking at him walking towards the ship, I was engulfed with inexplicable sadness. When he disappeared from my sight, I knew he would be gone forever.