I dont miss you anymore. And when I look at your pictures, I dont know you anymore. Your memory, revisted so many times, is at last too faint to recollect.
However... albeit rarely, but sometimes, like right now, I still cry for you.
Maybe its because I am good at feeling sorry for myself. I just have to tell me he was gone so early. I didn't even get a chance to know him. And he loved me so much. And he was so unhappy and sick in the end.. and etc. And the tears come. Dutifully. But I dont like to do this. It somehow stinks.
Sometimes there is this pain I feel when I see someone else's father hold them. Or fathers talk of their kids who are my age now. Because you aren't here to do it for me. Perhaps one never can stop grieving for some roles, you know. Dads, moms, kids, brothers.. because there's expectations. The deprived I's keep surfacing. That doesn't feel like a great way to remember you either.
You know, I've been loved by so many people. But I wasn't the apple of their eyes like I was yours (I think to myself). And I let no one ever match up to my memories of you. I think I even make you up to keep my sense of loss alive. Because really, I dont remember you too much. Strange, but true.
Would it be a betrayal if I didn't grieve you anymore?