Last christmas—was like hours ago, was like a presence perhaps too hard to be avoided neither forgotten.
It's like I am standing right in the middle of the wake as I saw me got off the red car and I saw me embracing her. I hear the voices and all the sounds ever so loud and clear. The colours, the heat, the sorrows. Yet sometimes I do forget that my granny had long lost the love of her life; only now to be remembered by the memories she'd kept, only if her mind fails her not...I see her broken down I see her exhausted soul wishing for a miracle. I'd saw her sunken face, I'd saw them held her as tears brought her down. I had went thousands of miles and back again collecting sorrows in my bottles of unspoken memories. Death brings us down. Love brings us down.
It's been a year. It's been too soon. It's been my pleasure to know you.
This christmas—I want to be alone, with all of you only in my mind.
Next christmas—will be tomorrow.
I'm always waiting.