Week 2.

(Caution clause: This is a melancholic entry. Please do not read on if you don't want to get depressed.)

Personally, I have yet to have a good cry. Everything happened so fast. There wasn't any time for anyone in my family, I think, to analyse, to think through, to reminisce. 1 day he had a stroke, out of nowhere. Then he was in a coma. Then he died. Then funeral arrangements were made. Friends and relatives to meet during the wake. Things to do. Then it was time for him to be cremated.

I want time to grieve because I feel like I haven't let it go yet. But I'm afraid to. Perhaps, part of me is still in denial. I know he's gone. It hit me the moment his coffin was a few inches from the furnace. I remember I was at a funeral once and my friend screamed, "Run away quickly, Daddy! The fire's coming!" when her father's coffin was pushed into the fire (it was at Mt Vernon at that time).

Big bro Deon said it's both a blessing and a tragedy that Grandpa passed away on my birthday. For one, I'll never forget him (I don't want to). But I wouldn't be able to celebrate it because it's also his death anniversay.

Though he didn't speak much, we know he loved his grandchildren very much. Mum told me that I was his favourite because he didn't have any daughters of his own (he has 4 sons) and I was his first grand-daughter. He was so proud of me that he pointed me out at the hospital nursery and announced to everyone who's willing to listen that that's his grand-daughter.

To: You (you know who you are)
I've already lost a loved one 2 weeks ago. Please don't make me lose another.

Miss you, ah yeh........