Strolling Down Memory Lane

Thanks: For memories.

I remember when my dad’s dad passed away. I was about nine or ten at the time. My parents sat my sister and I down in the living room, and with solemn faces announced that grandpa was no more. I remember not knowing what I felt, but remembering trying to feel sad – trying to cry. But as hard as I tried, my eyes were as dry as the Sahara.

My other grandpa passed away yesterday at 2am. Tears have been free-flowing effortlessly. Instead of forcing myself to conjure up tears, I attempt as best as I can to restrain myself from becoming a blubbering mess in front of my grandma and the rest of my family. My family is a wreck – I think we can just about qualify for one of those reality talk shows like Jerry Springer. We’ve got everything from your gay son down to your psychotic aunt. And somehow, I’m supposed to manage that – just like how I manage those tears.

At what stage of life do you actually have control of your own emotions? Or even of your own life? Do you ever?

Grandpa, rest in peace.

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