In Loving Memory

   She woke up early today at 6 am. She had to hit snooze a few times before she finally sat up in bed, with her hair tousled and eyes that could barely open. It was hard getting out of bed. Her bed which was as warm as toast compared to the slightly chilly temperature as her feet touched the wooden parquet floor.

   Groaning, she walked around her room in the dark, searching for something to tie up her hair in before heading into the darkly lit bathroom. 20 minutes later, she felt and looked slightly refreshed. Looking into her dressing mirror, she observed the darkening eye circles appearing under her eyes. Shrugging to herself, she put on her glasses and got ready to leave the house.

   It was an early Saturday morning, with less cars on the roads at that time. The 30 minute drive was as enjoyable as could be as she cruised along the road without a care in the world. In her back seat was a bundle of chrysanthemum flowers, neatly wrapped and packed with newspapers dating back to a month ago. Small little tealight candles and a portable lighter were placed in an orange plastic bag, together with her handbag on the front passenger seat.

   Humming to herself, she turned into the Cheras Christian Cemetery and parked her car near the entrance. At first glance, not a soul was in sight. She only observed a handful of people scattered over the cemetery after alighting from the car. The greenery was a sight for the eyes, the breeze blew by gently, rejuvenating her senses. It was quiet, calm and serene.

   She gathered the things needed, slung her handbag on her right shoulder and walked to her grandparent's graves. Wearing slippers, it was a wrong decision on her part, as the early morning dew on the grass soaked into her jeans and wet her feet. Still, she trudged on avoiding some stones and patches of mud to reach their graves.

   After a 100 metres walk, she reached the marble gravestones. Turning to her right, she said, "Hello, grandma." To her left, "Hello grandpa." Putting her things on the grass, she squatted down and proceeded to unbundle the flowers and arrange them in the vases that were there for this reason. "How are you doing?" She said, to nobody in particular who could answer. "I'm good." She said to herself, smiling.

   Lighting the tealight candles without much difficulty, she arranged them nicely at the the foot of their gravestones. Standing up, she brushed off some sand and dry grass from her jeans. Bowing her head in reverence with hands slightly clasped, she uttered a short prayer under her breath for their souls.

   When she was done, she walked up to her grandma's picture. She touched the finger tips of her right hand to her lips and then touched the photo of her beloved grandma. "I miss you, grandma." And with no warning at all, tears gathered at the bottom of her eyes. Blinking furiously, she turned away and held her emotions in check. In no circumstance, was she going to let her emotions get the better of her.

   After all, it has been three years since she left. Three years. Yet, the memories of the times they spent together remain steadfast in her head. Memories which were just that..... Memories.

   The morning sun had begun to come out. Its golden rays piercing through the bright blue sky and cottony white clouds. Sighing, she packed up her stuff and picked up whatever rubbish that was on ground. She looked at both their pictures again, one last time before she turned and walked away. I'll be back again, she thought. Same time next year, grandpa and grandma.

   Smiling a little, she made her way back out of the cemetery, walking into the rays of the warm yellow sun, leaving the silent graveyards behind her.


Kath's note: It's 50% fiction and 50% non-fiction. I am writing this time from a third person's point of view. She, instead of I. How?