In 12 days. It will be 3 years.
I count. I remember. I reminisce.
I am missing the years before that. I am missing that feeling of anticipating weekend to see that old chap's face.
I am missing my joker. Missing that same face that when I tell stories to, he listens carefully.
3 years. It felt like yesterday.
I miss cooking for him. I miss him teaching me the right way to cook his favourite sambal ikan bilis.
I miss being his favourite little girl. Always have and always been.
Every year doesn't make me miss you less. But even more.
I'm doing fine. but how I wish you're here.
I know my weekends will be filled with laughter.
I hate to remember how I spent May with you. The last memory is of you trying to draw a smile.
Everytime I drive by that house, I am hoping I might see your face outside, gardening.
I saw that glimpse of a small little girl, standing next to her grandpa, painting the house to prepare for raya.
I'm missing every moment.
I'll be praying always.
I'll never forget you.
It's just that. I forgot that you're not here anymore.
Physically you're long gone. But deep inside I know, I know grandpapa, that you're near.
This little girl always miss his old chap. Always.