Postcard from the noise

The Post a Day challenge for September 26 says:

You’ve been given the opportunity to send one message to one person you wouldn’t normally have access to (for example: the President. Kim Kardashian. A coffee grower in Ethiopia). Who’s the person you choose, and what’s the message?

So, I imagine a postcard. The kind that came in a pack, with no pictures. Apparently, the factory that used to make them has closed down (or so says the elderly man who runs the rather sad toyshop in our local cluster of shops).
A message, then, in handwriting on a piece of white card, which I will commit to my imaginary red postbox.
Who is the postcard to?
My late father.
This is what it would say:
Dear Dad. I’m sitting in the Cape Town Science Centre, waiting for Jack to finish his Kids Who Code session. It’s noisy. I wish you were here. You never did like mushy stuff, emotional expression. But I would like to say that I’m sorry you’re not here to meet your grandson. You’d like him. Love, Renee.

There’s more to be said, of course, but this is just a postcard.

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