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Wednesday, 5 November 2008
I miss you.
It has been 1 year, 3 minutes since my grand uncle died.
Sometimes at night when I go downstairs, I somehow imagine him still sleeping on his foldable bed by the hall, with his walking cane, affectionately named his mercedes, parked next to him.
After this whole time, I still wish he was still around.
I miss his ramblings.
I miss his japanese songs.
Hell, I miss cleaning up his morning 'accidents'.
Sometimes I wish he was still around, asking me to clip his fingernails, telling me the same stories on why he lost parts of his fingers.
I miss him.
Voiced.@ 22:23:00
I miss you.
It has been 1 year, 3 minutes since my grand uncle died.
Sometimes at night when I go downstairs, I somehow imagine him still sleeping on his foldable bed by the hall, with his walking cane, affectionately named his mercedes, parked next to him.
After this whole time, I still wish he was still around.
I miss his ramblings.
I miss his japanese songs.
Hell, I miss cleaning up his morning 'accidents'.
Sometimes I wish he was still around, asking me to clip his fingernails, telling me the same stories on why he lost parts of his fingers.
I miss him.
Voiced.@ 22:23:00
