Yeh-yeh, I miss you

Was it on this day the year I was 10 that yeh-yeh was gone?

It feels like a lifetime away. So long ago that I don't remember anymore.

The man was 80 when he left us, consumed by stomach cancer.

First, the doctors said he'd have about 6 months to live if he proceeded with surgery.

Post surgery, they gave him 2 months.

Everything turned upside down then. We've all been cheated of 4 months. 120 days.

That remaining 2 months finally revealed itself in 14 days.

20 days after surgery, my grandfather was cremated and his ashes placed in the pagoda near my maternal grandparents.

Ah, how I cried, I remember.

No one ever said it, but I've always secretly known that my brothers and I were his favorites. Always had been, and always will be.

At his deathbed, he held my 10 year old hand so tightly. And in his morphine induced state of mind, he said to me, so clearly, that I must do my best in my studies.

I'm ashamed to say, yeh-yeh, that I didn't see through my promise. I haven't forgotten, but perhaps I never saw the situation like they always do in the movies. The weight of the promise had been heavy on the shoulders of my 10 year old self.

I miss you, yeh-yeh, everyday. And on some days, I wished I never made that promise to you.

Maybe then, it will make missing you less filled with guilt.