It's all depressing posts for a while

I walked past a sushi stall that was still open at this hour just now. Wondered excitedly if they had your favorite salmon sushi rolls at half price.

And then I realized I didn't need to get them anymore.

Tomorrow marks the first normal Saturday without you. Whom can I call five minutes before work ends to see if I had someone to eat lunch with? On Saturdays, you were always the first.

Mom, it gets hard to breathe when I picture you sitting on that torn, red sofa of ours, munching on peanuts and watching some Hokkien TV show when I open the gate, shrug off my shoes and hang up my keys.

It gets harder when I think of sitting in front of your spirit tablet thingy to tell you about my day.

It gets harder when I get up for a drink of water during the night and the living room is dark and silent without you falling asleep in front of the TV.

It's hardest when I'm reminded of your voice. I'm afraid I won't be able to remember it much longer. It fades a little every day.

Please be safe, and happy, wherever you are.

I get pangs from time to time, missing you so much that it pains me to refrain from tearing up at work. And the thing that tends to get me started is when people talk about how loud and funny you were, how much you were loved by anyone and everyone.

I hope you don't blame me for wanting to keep you in the house instead of scattering you at sea. Dad seems heartbroken that you would want that; your sister thinks we should do what you wished. I, on one hand, want you to be free; on the other, I want to keep you by my side selfishly.

It hurts to know that I can't kiss your cheek anymore, or hook your arm in mine, or laugh at yet another of your DIY decorations. I can't taste your oatmeal prawns or get insulin jabs for you or joke about how bad your vegetables are.

And I can't stop crying in the bathroom at work. Why do these pangs hit the hardest at the most mundane of times?

I miss you / Miss you so bad

In 2004, Avril Lavigne released an album called Under My Skin. I had borrowed it from my friend Ruby and had kept it for ages before she asked for it back. I had listened to the songs from start to finish, flipping through the liner notes, savoring every lyric.

Then I came to the last track, "Slipped Away". At first glance the lyrics evoked the usual "lost love" vibes. I hadn't (still haven't) had any first love, yet alone lost one, so the song didn't really speak much to me. It wasn't until I read the liner notes properly that I saw the words "For my grandfather" or something along those lines, and I bawled.

Now, I can finally relate to this song and cry real tears of sorrow.

I didn't get around to kiss you goodbye on the hand.

P.S. It seems that I should write a post about losing the most important person in my life - to mark a milestone on this blog. But I can't bring myself to do it. Not yet. That piece needs to do her justice so it may take a while.

I'm not sure if I'll ever be ready.