Jun 2023
her softly rounded face is defined by lustrous black silky hair that is covered with white silver hair, and light wrinkles encircle rose-tinged lips and calm black eyes. clothed in a yellow flowered daster that matched the blossoming flowers around her garden she matched in perfectly. her presence, brings out blossoms.
her voice, which is soft but unwavering, has had a significant impact on my existence. when i was young, my hobbies were drawing and painting. when i went to see her, i always got excited to show her my latest masterpiece. she would compliment my amateur stick figure portraits and paintings as if i were the next van gogh while staring into my eyes thoughtfully and patting my head. after that, we would make my favorite dish for our noon meal together. the aroma of the food causes me to experience strong sensations of being hungry. her way of preparing food is delicate, much like the way she loved and cared for me.
her skin has become more wrinkled and her form has become more stooped as the years have gone by. her hair has become even more white. even i have been changed. i don't like arts as much like i did before. despite this, my adoration for my grandmother's timeless voice has not diminished through the years.
her wellbeing has been tested over the past few months by challenges that cannot be avoided. my fear stems from not knowing what will happen in the future. as we fast forward several years or months from now, will there come a point when she no longer recognizes me? or, what's even worse, her own name?
as i sit here in my memory garden of happy times, i can't help but wish i could wake up to the sound of her voice. these days, i find myself aching for her presence more than ever. that's how barren everything in my life appears right now. i hope i can tell her that i don't believe the old cliche that "time heals all wounds" since i’ve felt the same sorrow for far too long to believe that. i can't stop thinking about her, and it hurts to cry every single day. there has been a lot of change in my life, exactly how much effort should be made is beyond my grasp.
the enticing scent of her perfume has become less prominent over time. i am well aware that one of the most heartbreaking parts of moving on with life after a grief is that, as time passes, memories start to fade, such as the sound of her voice, the fragrance of her clothes, or the feeling of her arms wrapped around me. and do you know what's even more worst than that? it's the feeling of missing her voice, but at the same time it's the voice that i just couldn't seem to remember at all.
her voice, which is soft but unwavering, has had a significant impact on my existence. when i was young, my hobbies were drawing and painting. when i went to see her, i always got excited to show her my latest masterpiece. she would compliment my amateur stick figure portraits and paintings as if i were the next van gogh while staring into my eyes thoughtfully and patting my head. after that, we would make my favorite dish for our noon meal together. the aroma of the food causes me to experience strong sensations of being hungry. her way of preparing food is delicate, much like the way she loved and cared for me.
her skin has become more wrinkled and her form has become more stooped as the years have gone by. her hair has become even more white. even i have been changed. i don't like arts as much like i did before. despite this, my adoration for my grandmother's timeless voice has not diminished through the years.
her wellbeing has been tested over the past few months by challenges that cannot be avoided. my fear stems from not knowing what will happen in the future. as we fast forward several years or months from now, will there come a point when she no longer recognizes me? or, what's even worse, her own name?
as i sit here in my memory garden of happy times, i can't help but wish i could wake up to the sound of her voice. these days, i find myself aching for her presence more than ever. that's how barren everything in my life appears right now. i hope i can tell her that i don't believe the old cliche that "time heals all wounds" since i’ve felt the same sorrow for far too long to believe that. i can't stop thinking about her, and it hurts to cry every single day. there has been a lot of change in my life, exactly how much effort should be made is beyond my grasp.
the enticing scent of her perfume has become less prominent over time. i am well aware that one of the most heartbreaking parts of moving on with life after a grief is that, as time passes, memories start to fade, such as the sound of her voice, the fragrance of her clothes, or the feeling of her arms wrapped around me. and do you know what's even more worst than that? it's the feeling of missing her voice, but at the same time it's the voice that i just couldn't seem to remember at all.
