Dear Grandpa

You didn’t get well this time. 
Just like I thought you would, just like you did every other time.
We stood by your bedside and watched you slip away.
I stroke your head and held on to your hand and willed for your heartbeat to rise.
I wished desperately that I could call you back, to wake up, to hang on and to fight.
Instead, I said nothing and whispered, ‘Goodbye Kong Kong, rest well. I love you, and I’ll miss you.’
It was for the best. 

The clock in the main hall has been stopped to the time you left us.
A reminder screaming at us that you’re gone.
I wish that I could turn it back just a minute earlier, or maybe a couple of hours, or maybe a couple of months.
Back to when you were up and running and telling me, ‘G-neen, take care. You must save money ok? Money is hard to earn!’
Yes, that’s you.
I was so proud of my Kong Kong who spoke Queen’s English,
My Kong Kong who had perfect manuscript handwriting.
My Kong Kong who dressed smartly in shirt and pants all the time.
My Kong Kong who wore a swimming cap to sleep so that his hair would fall nice and flat the next day.

Like all regrets after you’ve lost,
I wish I had made more time for you.
I wish I had rung you up more just to ask, ‘How are you?’
I wish I had taken you out more.
I wish I had gone to the hospital earlier to see you.
I wish I had gone the day before.
I wish, I wish, I wish.

Too late for all that now.
You’ve gone somewhere where I can’t take you back.
Sleep tight Kong Kong. Be well.
Please drop by my dreams sometimes.

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