Missing the dead

Weirdly, I wasn’t this sad when my grandpa or grandma passed away. It’s been five years, but the reality is just hitting me now.

I’ve been thinking how nice it would have been if they were still here, watching me grow up a little bit more.

The vivid memories of them treating me like a kid are fading year after year as I continue living without their presence.

This year’s Idul Fitr felt especially lonely. My family didn’t go to their house like we used to. It had always been our yearly trip, and we never skipped a single year when they were still alive.

But this year, I didn’t even go back home. I just can’t find a reason to, since we weren’t going to our hometown anymore.

But now, I want to go there more than ever. To miss the dead, and whisper my prayers for them. To show them I’ve grown too, even if they are no longer here to see. And to thank them, for the warmth, the love, the only good memories I had as a kid.