My grandmother passed away six years ago, but memories of her linger still.  It feels like a dream.  I am old enough to think of the good old days but not old enough to indulge myself in reminiscing since I am still actively making new memories.  There are moments when I remember how she took care of us and how she would warmly greet us when she saw us.  Her face lights up and it made me feel loved.

Those days when we were young, it felt like the world was safe and sunny, and now that a few decades have passed, I’m old enough to know better. That every moment should be cherished because they become memories far too fast and sadly enough it almost feels like their existence as a dream because memories have a fleeting quality about them, they are not solid.

Life feels like it’s not quite real but at the same time oh so real.  I remember her, but now that I am used to her being gone, it doesn’t feel so painful, but there is a dull ache of longing to be able to see her again and interact with her and hang out with her.  It’s those little moments that feel like they are not important which become the most important, as we get older.  It’s those moments which become poignant and pierce our hearts when we remember how much we miss them.

When we are young, we can’t wait to grow old, yet at the same time we are very of the moment, we are not able to think too far into the future except maybe to wish for something to happen but then get distracted once again by the moment.  Now that we are older, with a few battle scars and having experienced the loss of loved ones, the perspective is different.  We are not as young and carefree as we once were, nor are we as brave.

Sometimes I wish that I could hang out with her again and share meals with her.  There is something so comforting about her and so relaxing.  It’s a feeling of home.  And now, all that’s left are memories which weave in and out of our mind as we go through life.

(c) Niconica 2019