By name or by fate, by actions or by emotions, substantially, I'm a proven sinner, way more egregious than I'm photographically compared.
The more I look at the photograph at the funeral parlour, the more I thought of the past. Those times which you and I would term childhood, those time when we got along so well, those time when we lived so happily together. We laughed, we joked, we teased behind backs. It was fun :D
And then things drifted from the regularity. We moved out and somewhere about that motion, I believe, was when I'd grown up without you, and that sheer maturity in me couldn't acclimatize that change. You weren't there and when I came back, everything was different.
Very frankly, I can't educe from faint childhood recollection of how our very tight bond got reverted to this way now. I wish I could. But even if I could, it's just too late.
Ever since then, I had this hatred. This burning fury, which now, when thought upon, originated from simple influence, which is in fact, just misleading.
Every now and then, I'd turn to look at the photograph of you. In reality, you have faded into a memory, which is so real that I cannot believe that your presence had since disappear.
I wish I could have a good talk with you now. The last time I did was months ago, and the last time when I'd actually taken a picture with you was 2 years ago. What a disaster am I. I wish I could stay with you all over again, and live those joyful moments all my life.
I may not have shed a tear yet, but deep inside, I know I'm sapped.
You did everything to love me, but I did everything to hurt you.
Words cannot articulate my apologies and regrets. I'm just SO sorry.
I love you, grandpa.
May you rest in peace..
