Category : Books-Non-Fiction

Sub Category : History

I gathered around my family to watch my auntie blow out her birthday candles, I could see the pain in her eyes. It was my pain, but stronger. For it was her father's birthday too, and where was he? Gone. It felt fake. I could not explain it. Though the well known song I could not finish, who should I have said happy birthday to? My auntie, my grandfather or the both of them? Or none of them? For yesterday was not 'happy' at all- it was just a day of flashbacks. To when every year I would come to my grandfather's house and laugh with him as he sat in his big brown chair. It was a reminder of how the intricate beauty of my relationship with him is gone. I can't see him laugh. I can't see him take a puff of his pipe in his blue hat and now my auntie has her own birthday. Her own. Those times are memories I will dwell on. Dwell on as I live my day to day life. As I have conversations. As I go to school. As I eat and as I dream. Furthermore, this just feels like an inevitable nightmare that I cannot awake from. Not a dream. A nightmare that I have secreted in my mind behind all the sarcasm and witt, for the day it was just made me want to screech until my eyes were the colour of my lips. It was yesterday.