Eulogy of my Grandfather
What’s Popping my Dearest Dadu, Oh, where can I even begin? All of the things I wanted to tell you, all of the feelings I wanted to feel, all of the memories I waited to etch into that log that ultimately drifted with the currents before I could even extend my arm out for it. I knew one day that this time would come, but how could I expect that day to be so soon? So incredibly, tragically soon. When you passed away, it would be imprecise to say that the emotions came in waves. More so, they came in two parts: the sudden shock and onslaught of sadness at the instantaneous realization of what the word “dead” meant, and the slower, deeper and more excruciating depression that clung onto my soul and still hasn’t let go. And if you weren’t such a good grandfather, such a pure human being, and such a fun and lovable person who in every moment where the alchemist within me brewed up split feelings would without hesitation suck out the poison and put my life before his, that second part ...