Monday, April 18, 2005
Gram - I miss you so!
A picture of me and my grandmother sits by my bedside. It is one of the very few that I have and the only one that I keep, so dearly.....Yesterday, out of fun, I took a picture of the photograph on my Samsung. Saved it and set it as my wallpaper. Its very blur, but still I could see my grandmother's smile clearly on it. Its been 2 years, and the pain of her leaving has kinda died down. I don't weep in my bed anymore, and I don't tear on a lonely bus journey anymore. Not that i don't miss her, but its become a dull, blurred memory...one that often brings sweet memories as we joke about her during family gatherings.
Last night, after the Newcastle - Man U match, I went to bed. I had the most upseting dream - a dream of my gram, dying again... In the god-damned dream, she was at our AMK home, in her blue pyjamas that I will always remember, bed-riddened and dying. I could see her face clearly, nothing like in the smiling picture. I don't know what it meant, but it did not symbolise anything about happiness. I don't remember much of our conversation, just some about telling me to study hard. I guessed I must have cried in my dreams, because this morning when i woke up, my eyes were so full of shit that I couldn't open my eyes. I do not believe in supernatural powers, but when it comes to my grandmother, I always think otherwise. The saddest thing in my life is that I disappointed her while she was alive. And I am regretful and sorry about that, to her, and to myself...
I never fail to tear whenever I think about her. Never fail to love and then miss her even more. And the memories of my childhood never fail to overwhelm me at these times....I remember her bringing a cane down to the playground and chasing me across the whole neighbourhood to threaten me to go home for dinner. I remember how she waited up for me one Mid-Autumn night while I was at the playground, playing with fire and candles. I remember how she would boast to all the aunties how smart I am or how ugly I looked as a kid, and the way she would glow with pride when a neighbour praised that I was smart or pretty. I remember how she always stands by the kitchen window and wave to me when i went to school or was coming home. I remember how hard it was for me and my brother to see her through her last journey, and how i managed to finally cry when the hard facts hit me that she died...
Sometimes I hope that she is still alive, to attend my grad ceremony or even nag at me to eat my dinner. I myself am very proud of my achievements, and i dearly wanted her to be proud of me as well, and to enjoy some of the good things that I can now afford to buy for her.
But that's impossible, never possible again....
|11:06 AM|
