
I don't really have much memories of my grandfather. But I do remember that when I was a toddler and we lived in Valenzuela, I was usually at their house and my mother had to scold me just so I'd go home to our then apartment. But that was it.
In June after my father's brithday, we learned he had a stroke or was it a heart attack. I didn't know the details.
I told him a few weeks before my wedding that I was about to get married. After so many text messages exchanged, it was decided we should instead visit him than him going to Manila and travelling alone.
We were supposed to visit him last weekend. But decided against it when my other cousin was scheduled to come home the same week. It was his (my cousin's) birthday weekend and he was supposed to have a birthday party. We wanted to be complete when we visit him, so we told ourselves we should visit him some other time. We weren't able to see him alive because he died Monday on the same week we were supposed to visit him. I don't even remember when I last saw him.
I pray that he's happy now. That he's with Our Creator looking down on us. For whatever happened, we know in our hearts he is still their father and is still our grandfather. The same blood runs through our veins.
1 comment:
>>>>>>",<<<<<<<
*hugz*
-yza
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