(no subject)
Missing You
I'm sorry.
That is all that is the thread that runs through my mind now.
After more than 1 month, 8 hours on a 747, 1 hr customs and 15 minutes to the house, I was finally told that I won't see you at grandpa's house.
At that point I just grew numb. I had wanted to cry but I couldn't.
Mum was surprised.
"The cry-baby is not crying?” she had said.
"Things change." I said.
Indeed.
Everything's changed.
I was filled with anger more than tears.
Nothing beat the growing disappointment. Resentment.
"We did for your sake. You were about to have your finals." They reasoned.
But which cannot be repeated? Which cannot be undone?
One last chance to say goodbye or a set of exam questions?
Which one will leave a bigger regret?
I talked to friends, I talked to strangers.
I voiced my disappointment.
I could do lots of things,
But the point is, you're gone.
I went by grandpa's house the next day.
Fresh from abroad, I walked through the house.
Grandpa looked older.
Hallowed architecture echoed only the loneliness of his painted expression.
I wanted to cry. But again, I couldn't. Not in front of grandpa.
They left the room as it was.
Hundred days vigil was to be observed.
I stayed the whole day.
I turned on the TV and ran your favourite shows.
I sat waiting for something I couldn’t see.
Two weeks on, familiar fatigued faces brought me to the hill.
I stood in front of the temple's entrance.
Followed like a robot to a faith I did not comprehend,
Offered food, joss sticks and did things according to what everyone said I was to do.
Finally we were moving.
On the way, spoke to one, who was still grieving.
Darkened eyes spells missing you.
My chest grew tighter as the monk showed the way.
Traditional ceremonies and upgraded technologies marked where you are now.
Far from I had imagined.
They pushed me to the front.
"Come and tell grandma that you've come back to visit."
I walked front.
"It's the one on the top row, highest from where you're standing."
I looked up.
My short-sighted eyes could barely make out your face.
I'm home, grandma.
I'm here.
But I can't see you.
A few tears spilt, but still I was not crying yet.
I reverted to roaming on the streets a lot.
I spent time with grandpa in the house.
A week before I left, mum passed me the box that contained some jewellery that you left for me.
I picked out the items to see.
They were classically intricate and I find it surprising that the rings fit since you are so petite compared to me.
I smiled.
You always made things fit.
It reminded of the dresses you made for me as a little girl, of some I wore, of some I didn't because the material itches.
But they always fit.
Then I came upon something unusual.
There lay amidst the feminine accessories stood out this thin gold bracelet.
I stared puzzled - it was small, way too small for me to wear.
Maybe it was the one I wore as a baby, I thought.
But it was too new to be something I wore 20-odd years ago.
"It's for your first child, as and when that will happen.” mum said.
It was then that I finally cried.
************************************
Might submit this for the poetry competition so let me know what you think.
I'm sorry.
That is all that is the thread that runs through my mind now.
After more than 1 month, 8 hours on a 747, 1 hr customs and 15 minutes to the house, I was finally told that I won't see you at grandpa's house.
At that point I just grew numb. I had wanted to cry but I couldn't.
Mum was surprised.
"The cry-baby is not crying?” she had said.
"Things change." I said.
Indeed.
Everything's changed.
I was filled with anger more than tears.
Nothing beat the growing disappointment. Resentment.
"We did for your sake. You were about to have your finals." They reasoned.
But which cannot be repeated? Which cannot be undone?
One last chance to say goodbye or a set of exam questions?
Which one will leave a bigger regret?
I talked to friends, I talked to strangers.
I voiced my disappointment.
I could do lots of things,
But the point is, you're gone.
I went by grandpa's house the next day.
Fresh from abroad, I walked through the house.
Grandpa looked older.
Hallowed architecture echoed only the loneliness of his painted expression.
I wanted to cry. But again, I couldn't. Not in front of grandpa.
They left the room as it was.
Hundred days vigil was to be observed.
I stayed the whole day.
I turned on the TV and ran your favourite shows.
I sat waiting for something I couldn’t see.
Two weeks on, familiar fatigued faces brought me to the hill.
I stood in front of the temple's entrance.
Followed like a robot to a faith I did not comprehend,
Offered food, joss sticks and did things according to what everyone said I was to do.
Finally we were moving.
On the way, spoke to one, who was still grieving.
Darkened eyes spells missing you.
My chest grew tighter as the monk showed the way.
Traditional ceremonies and upgraded technologies marked where you are now.
Far from I had imagined.
They pushed me to the front.
"Come and tell grandma that you've come back to visit."
I walked front.
"It's the one on the top row, highest from where you're standing."
I looked up.
My short-sighted eyes could barely make out your face.
I'm home, grandma.
I'm here.
But I can't see you.
A few tears spilt, but still I was not crying yet.
I reverted to roaming on the streets a lot.
I spent time with grandpa in the house.
A week before I left, mum passed me the box that contained some jewellery that you left for me.
I picked out the items to see.
They were classically intricate and I find it surprising that the rings fit since you are so petite compared to me.
I smiled.
You always made things fit.
It reminded of the dresses you made for me as a little girl, of some I wore, of some I didn't because the material itches.
But they always fit.
Then I came upon something unusual.
There lay amidst the feminine accessories stood out this thin gold bracelet.
I stared puzzled - it was small, way too small for me to wear.
Maybe it was the one I wore as a baby, I thought.
But it was too new to be something I wore 20-odd years ago.
"It's for your first child, as and when that will happen.” mum said.
It was then that I finally cried.
************************************
Might submit this for the poetry competition so let me know what you think.