Missing Them
I have a picture of both of them. A small portrait of each, settled in their respective half of the silver locket that hangs around my neck. I wear it almost daily, so they're close to my heart. You'd think that I'm wearing it because I love my grandparents so much. That I want to think about them everytime I wear it.
But that's only part of the truth.
I wear it out of guilt. As much as I loved them, visiting was always a burden. So we hardly ever went. And when we did go, when did I ever express love and interest in them? Why did I learn more about my own grandparents when they were being cremated, than I ever knew while they were alive? It makes me feel bad. It makes me miss them.
Why couldn't I have held them as close as I hold their pictures now?
But that's only part of the truth.
I wear it out of guilt. As much as I loved them, visiting was always a burden. So we hardly ever went. And when we did go, when did I ever express love and interest in them? Why did I learn more about my own grandparents when they were being cremated, than I ever knew while they were alive? It makes me feel bad. It makes me miss them.
Why couldn't I have held them as close as I hold their pictures now?