Funerals

Sunday, January 12, 2014

Not that I’d wish to go to funerals as much as I go to coffee shops, but there’s something about these places.

Since my grandmother’s death, I don’t remember a time when a tear doesn’t long to fall whenever I enter such a sad place of remembrance—of what was once there, now’s already lost forever.

There’s nothing that seems to be worse than the life taken away from the one close to your heart, the one who’s always been there for you, the one you’d always treasure. Especially when you really know you’ve never made that person feel the worth he or she deserves.

Add the sad songs played that sounds a thousand times more painful than it used to when heard in an ordinary day. From then on, all the flashbacks will just be memories you know you can never relive. Not ever again. And all that’s left in you is the longing (and regret, for me).

Funerals make the saddest places, saddest times. Funerals are where the ends happen, the good byes are truly meant. They are the holes to a far place. They are when people genuinely mourn. Funerals are when those left overthink of loss.

On the other side of it, funerals serve as reminder that although someone may have already left, there still has been the best person you’ve ever known. And all the more you regret if you never met.

To you, Lola, I’m sad I never made it to a sincere apology. But I’m happy you’re the grandmother no one could ever replace. I miss you.