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.