Mourning is a strange thing
I keep on thinking to myself: You're sure she's not just sleeping? You're sure she's not just in the hospital? Are you sure? Are you sure you're sure? But you saw what you saw and that was that coffin going into the ground with her body in it and everyone threw roses and carnations into the grave five feet under ground... It really hasn't sunk in, has it? I'm going on with my life, and I think about you more than I have in the past couple years- because I took you for granted. I always thought you would live to see all your grandchildren get into their 30s. I always thought you'd be there to watch me get married; to fix my wedding gown; to watch ME...us... live our lives. To be there to babysit your great-grand-kids like you babysat your grandkids...me. My brother. My cousins. I can't help but think about all the things you did for me; like the things I said in the last entry. Teaching me little bits of Tagalog. Helping me with my homework...cooking...