It was a year ago the last time I saw you. Dad did not make it easy for us to build rapport with his family. We seldom see any of our cousins, we almost never attended any of the family gatherings, we did not know the clan as we were growing up. Family history when my Dad was young? Could be. Status quo and sibling intrigues? Maybe. Pride and embarrassment for mistakes of the past? I would say so.
Nonetheless, we were there on grandpa’s 70th birthday. I remember him giving us hand-made head bands and bracelets with our name on it. But that is all I could remember. That summer day as we sing to him a melodious birthday song is my only memory of being around him and seeing him.
Now I stand here, looking down a white glass, staring at his closed eyes trying to Recognize
the face lying peacefully in a closed bed surrounded by candles and flowers. Time slipped by us fast – too fast to make lasting memories. It is sad. It is unfortunate. Not because grandpa has left us but because there was so much time but all was wasted. Our time as grandchild and grandfather was stolen from us by history of the past that is not even ours; but of my Dad’s.
Photo credit: https://www.bluebellflowers.co.uk