Taking someone for granted

Tomorrow's the anniversary of my grandfather's death. It's been a year. I remember I was writing, during a long holiday, when the news came. I vaguely remember the scent of hospital, the patients occupying other beds in the same room. And I remember the funeral, averting my eyes from the graveyard just so I wouldn't feel anything. It was very hot there, and I watched as people cried, held each other, and poured buckets of flower petals. I heard prayers. It lasted for hours. It was like a scene out of a movie, in which I was just the audience.

Back then sometimes I missed him. We didn't talk and meet much but I was very fond of him, he was my favorite grandparent. It reminds me, sometimes we take people for granted. We only miss them when they are gone, need them when they are gone, and when they are still here, we do not really give a damn.

It's funny how life is, isn't it?