alls felt smal

f check-ups, the pitying glances

ting to hear my mum's voice ca

ey were

e only o

ndifferent to my loss. The funer

tence reduced to a memory. And

ldn'

sn't

*

gging his chair beside my

never sugarcoated the truth, nev

nd maybe that's why

one afternoon, watching him fl

hospit

. Maybe 'cause I know what i

you don't wan

n, "My mum acts like my brother

. Packed up his things like he

ed his w

. "That's

finally looked at me, his usual

ng about th

hat's that supp

rieving. You'

like a slap.

m. Your family." His voice was

dying is the only way to feel cl

ness. But you'r

ou think you know e

you're still here. And as long

my fists.

ke

ate

you d

wing the lump in my t

ll go when you stop acting lik

ng the tears away. I di

*

, I dreamt

father's laughter. My twi

ing, my chest tight. I reached

their photos. Ev

they had nev

ust maybe, A

ieving. I w

*

asked the nurse for

maybe... maybe I could write t

way they m

w when he walked in

ng my advice?

yes. "You're

miss me if I sto

't res

aybe... he was ri