I always wanted you to be my 18th roses when I turned 18,
My escort at my weddings entourage,
My second to the last dance in reception when I got married.
I dreamed of it ever since I was your little girl.
And now that I'm 27, those will just remain as is.
My wants will never happen even if I cry out loud.
Papa, it's been so long but the grief and mourning are still here.
Every time I remember you,
I remember it all clear.
That you were my hero, my backbone, my clever friend.
Up until you utter your last words,
I was there.
I was the one who heard it.
They're all in deep sleep.
Should I be thankful?
Tears unending so my hands are shaking every time I wrote something about you.
You taught us not to be envious of anyone for anything,
You taught us to be contented with what's on our table,
And see things beautifully even in hopeless times.
Yet I failed.
Sometimes I wanted to get lost in the dark.
I get envious, not over things
but having someone to call
'papa' at their age.
Late 20's, 30's, 40's, 50's and they still have chance to get a bond with their father.
The reality hits me hard.
Life is unjust.
It’s not a fairytale to tell but a constant battle to deal with.
I need to be emotionally tough.
I need to stop my crying,
I didn't see this coming, I never realized I was too blind for life's bargain.
Accepting you'll never be here again, I’m in total pain.
Suddenly fell asleep with tired eyes,
tears seem unendingly flowing from that twinling spring.
That night I dreamed a long dream,
that I got to hug you so tight and felt the father's love.
I will never stop hoping for that day I got to see you
and wait until those beautiful dreams come true.