When he passed away two years ago, i was brain dead & couldn't go to his funeral for being too far [The irony of expats]. I,didn't see sun for 2 days just restricted myself to my room & couldn't believe it. Last year i went home and, wanted to visit his grave, and with every step i just wanted to turn back and run because i would have chose to believe that he was alive but missing and not dead. You get cold feet, they leave only for us to follow them with a hope that we might see them in some way or form.
My grandpa was my real father as the dad was busy with business, i started to utter words at 2, he taught me how to be literate before i attended school, as i grew up he told me manners, how to talk to people in "Punchaiyat", how to walk with a head high in a society, he taught me life skills, how to ride and how to shoot. For me he was the best friend, who was slightly older, when he passed away when i was 13, it changed me in ways i never had known before.Its a constant reality, the best we CAN do is to make peace with the past & cherish their memories.