What Day is Today?

Today is Paris' birthday. Paris, who? My Sister. I wished her late. I remembered the date at lunch yesterday, but somehow I forgot to wish her at midnight. *sigh*

Well, I don't think she's going to be pissed off just because I am not the first to wish her. It is weekend, anyway. I guess she will be celebrating this day with her boyfriend. She kept on talking about him and how she can't wait to meet him when he comes to the City from Down There (no, it is not Down Under).

My birthday is coming up exactly two weeks from now. I can't wait for my Teddy Bear, or maybe I'll get the denim dress I had my eyes on since last year first (it is definitely going to burn a big hole in my pocket!) or maybe I need to buy a new hard disk drive for my beloved computer. But then again, I have some money saved for that. I'll get the dress. Hehe...

Back to today. What day is this day again? More on my Sister's birthday again? Wrong!!!

My paternal Grandpa died two years ago. I didn't cry for him that year. My eyes were very dry that moment, I couldn't force a tear out no matter how hard I tried. But I cried for Ex #1 for treating me badly. How selfish I was. And I often regretted that moment.

I remembered going to Grandpa's house that day. Paris didn't tag along. She said she had works to do. Get an emergency leave. Duh!

His body was at the front room. I had no guts to take a final look before they carried him away to the cemetery. I had terrible feeling of guilts for not being a good granddaughter to him. What Ex #1 did to me was bad, and I cried a lot for him, for what he did. I blamed myself for not being able to cry for Grandpa. I blamed Ex #1 for doing things to me, and made me cry. I secretly blamed him for making me tired of crying, I had no tears left for Grandpa.

I had never, not even once, went to the place he was buried. And I never knew where his wife, my Grandma, was buried. I often felt guilty for not visiting their graves, but a friend assured me that it was a proper thing to do. Visiting the graves, considering my conditon, will only add tortures to the Deads. I was glad he told me that. But it didn't take away the guilty feelings I often had.

That was two years ago. I never remember much of that day. I love Grandpa, but he never seems to stay in my mind. I don't remember much of my family too. And they are not bothered by my not calling or going home. Because that is what I am. Because that is what we are. But often, when I remember Paris' birthday, I am reminded of Grandpa's death too.

And somehow it will remind me on how Mom didn't let me go home when Grandma died. Only Dad went to pay her a visit. I was at the Boarding School. They didn't allow me to go home. Only when I called home I knew about her death. And all I can do was crying until I felt very tired. My friends thought I was crying for not being able to go home. Only later they knew the news and understood. That was Grandma. I couldn't remember the date.

I wish I had the chance to see them both, and apologise for whatever things I have done. I knew it was too late the moment I heard the news. And I can never turn back the time and say sorry.

Remembering the 7th of April had been very painful since Grandpa's death. And too much of other things happened on the 7th, I wish I don't have to remember it.

I wonder if Paris remembered.