All these years, I contained my sadness, over not knowing you, over not knowing your love,
over not knowing what angered you, over not knowing what made you happy. I counted the years, on my fingers and toes, making up for the time, we truly lost, pushing my sadness, down the years, berating myself over the lost time, refusing to pay any heed, to my fears, hoping against hope that whatever time we have will be enough. But it's a far fetched lie and whatever years my cousins got loving you and being loved by you, is theirs and yours. I will never get those years back or your love that never tied you down to a bed. They got your middle years. I get the years after the middle years.

The last years.

You come home from your shop, every night and all I get with you is the dinner time, and your tired smiles. Your pain, hurts me. You are weighed down by pride on your shoulders and you are too proud to admit that, old age is getting to you. You don't stop walking in the mornings to climb the slope that takes you to the nearest bus stop, for the first bus of the day. You leave the home before I can wake up and you are back when I have two hours left to go to sleep.

Your love is unconditional. You pack a bag every afternoon and send it to us. You feed us like we are your own daughters, you make up for all the lost years by feeding us like spoilt babies which we aren't. But we love it, because it's our only chance left and then we are left with two hours to smile at you, laugh with you. It saddens me, that you favor my sister more because she is the youngest one of us and she gets all your playful banter and I get the serious approval. In those moments, I wish I was younger too, so that I can be playful with you. Otherwise, I might come off as disrespectful. You see, I am unfamiliar with your ways. I won't know how to act around you and I am so concerned about the impression I make that I am so meek and talk two words or three but give you hundred smiles and laughs which most of the time goes unnoticed behind my sister's youth. I feel so old and wrinkled, so far from you in those moments. I wish, I could talk freely like my mom does, with you. I wish I had her charisma and I had her energy. I have to fill air with silence when I am around you, too afraid to breathe wrong and affect the pride on your shoulders. I am so unsure and I am so sad that this is what I have with you, grandpa. You love me, yes. You show your love better than any elderly and your spirit is a raging inferno. There is nothing I want to change, except for us. I wish we were closer than any grandpa and granddaughter in this world. I hurt every night when I can't be like the one I want to be.

I wish you know how much I admire you.

grey shade like your love
darkest green envy like mine
ugly comatose 

I am the calm and you are the storm...
___

©VioletEden

12thJune2017