The taxi ride
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I smell fear. Fearful of what I'm going to undergo, again: the departure of someone I hold dear. She's not my biological grandma, we may not have the same blood flowing through us, but our relationship is more than the mere superficial "blood is thicker than water" label.
For so many moments that I wish you can stay, the many other moments of witnessing your pain and suffering set me pondering whether I am selfish to secretly wish you can be here to stay, to witness your grandson and I tying the knots and bearing your beloved grandchildren. When you're old and fragile withstanding all the pain, is time really a luxury for you or is it just prolonging your pain?
It's foolish for me to wish for forever, but I do wish for the time you have with us, it can be filled with lesser pain.
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It has been more than a year since you left. I still cry and wallow in pity when I allow myself to dive deeper into the bottomless ocean of thoughts and memories of you. Work has been a real helpful deviation of these thoughts. What's not making this heartache better is the guilt that has never faded with time. What if it was me who didn't take enough care of you? What if I discovered you were ill earlier?
Reunite with me more often; in our dreams we meet.
