so yesterday I followed dad back to grandpa's place for a short while. he watered the plants and got me to sweep the front porch.
as we drove up to the house, this sense of belonging came back to me so suddenly it almost made me tear up. its the second time back at the house after grandpa left and and the maid went home. something just felt so out of place, now knowing that the house is locked up and uninhabited. something didn't feel right just dropping by to water the plants and not even enter the house. obviously something did feel very wrong knowing that grandpa wouldn't hear the car driving up the porch and stand up to see us run in, and to welcome us into his home, or our home as he would call it, with a warm warm hug and a "hello wenting".
sometimes memories do come back and how i miss those happier and carefree days, how i regret not putting in the effort to visit him more often. as i was sweeping the porch, yes those memories came back as i looked over to where dad was watering the plants. i remember bro and i used to fight over who should water the plants, and how grandpa would just sit on his white porcelain elephant seat just watching us and sometimes telling one of us to give in. it really hurts me to realise now that grandpa did have such an enjoyable time watching us grow up, despite everything else that was being a bitch to him, he enjoyed every single moment he saw both of us happy. it was so unfair to him; i was unfair to him. he loved all of us more than we ever know but just looking back at how i didn't cherish him enough really makes me want to slap/punch/kick myself in the face.
the look on his face when i told him i almost got full marks for math exam, the look on his face when i told him i got first in class, the look on his face when i told him i was going to suzhou, the look on his face when i told him i got an A* in science, the look on his face when i told him my aggregate score and i was going to crescent, the look on his face when i told him i was going to be a leader, the look on his face when i told him i was going to laos, the look on his face when i told him i did well for my mid-years, the look on his face when i told him i was going to surabaya, the look on his face when i told him i was going to take triple 8... he would smile with his teeth that caused his eyes to go into a line and then pat me on my back saying "good job... good job... work harder ok?" and then something else in Cantonese that i never really understood. no one ever knows about this, not even bro, mum or dad; that encouragement that he gave me was essentially what drove me to be even better. it was what really encouraged me to do even better, to make him even more proud of me than he already was. deep down inside i knew he was proud of me, but it never really occurred to me how much that really mattered, until obviously too late. he never put it into words, but he was immensely proud of both bro and it kills me to think how important he put us, and how he wasn't the top of my priority list.
i am literally in tears when i think back to all this (yes in tears rn) and i feel as though i could rip my insides out just to have it all again. this is something i really hate about myself; it occurred to me i never really treasured my grandfather as much as he treasured me. i probably didn't love him as much as he loved me. i don't put things that matter in front of things that don't/can be made up for.
i hate myself for that.
i could kill just to hear it again,
"good job...good job... work harder ok? yeye is very proud of you. yeye is very proud of you."
i never got the chance to say it to you one last time, i love you
xx
kel
