It’s sad when your past life becomes a memory along with people, places and spaces. The house you grew up, decaying. The paths you walked full of undergrowth and weeds. The trees you pluck fruits is barren and lost its glory. It pricks my heart. A slow form of torture that you cannot escape.
Your parents are getting old. Wrinkled faces and years of pain, untold and kept in their hearts. Still doing the exact same chores they did years ago, to wretched sibling, who takes them for granted, without kindness or compassion. Slaving away, slower form of continuous torture. A co dependency of the worst kind. It breaks my heart.
Food tastes better, bringing memories of the good old days where I was younger and full of energy. Old haunts look smaller and insignificant, rudeness of people in general just bothers me to no end.
One person is no longer with us, three months has passed without my precious Grandma, the matriarch of our clan and just like that the building blocks of family relationships are fading away. Her love and affection was the glue that made every bond strong, now everyone is going astray. It shatters my soul. Nothing is the same.
It still rains hard. But days are not the same. People are not the same and spaces are not. Memories linger and stabs my heart. Ungrateful people angers me. The island has changed and there is no return.
~ Dee~
November 26, 2025
@Colombo
The Wanderer's Thoughts... 