Twenty third of january,
Joy of red and white;
Twenty three days
We rejoice the start of another year; the dragon
Yet families gather at a columbarium
I call it the grave
Some with sadness, and pain.
Others in remembrance and joy
Mum squat before dad and his garden filled with ornaments
Tears are but a trickle, a small figment of pain.
This year seems different.
We lack cheer, complains, grunts and love.
Dad seem quieter; a memory so dear,
Intangible yet so close you can touch.
We stood in silence before a picture, bones, and little things we remember him for. That engineer, that gardener, that dreamer, that lover, my father.
Grief appeared as though he was hiding at some dark damp corner of my heart.
Inevitable but I subdue it. I couldn’t let my emotions wonder. Not here, not now.
I place my arm on my mother, squeeze it to comfort the sorrow widow.
We would never know the reason why.
Eternity still seem rather distant away.
But I could never let his death be vain.
Not today.
I have no intentions of revenge.
Maybe just on the devil and his plans.
I raised up my head, knowing that this little boy had much to work on.
We walked out with him by our side.
God is my banner, my refuge, my healer.
The king of glory, mighty in battle.
He is… My avenger.
Christians, or me actually are a bunch of contradicting people.
