Today is the day.
The anniversary of mom's peaceful eternal sleep. The end of her long-suffering.
Dad had it the hardest compared to us. Every single year. Whenever it comes to mom, Dad would break down and cry a river.
I still remember vividly that particular day. Back then when I have no understanding of the concept of death, Dad would force a smile as he placed confused little me on his lap. He hugged me tightly but he would then sob uncontrollably.
Danish had sat on the far corner and wept in silence, ignoring Dad's plea to sit together. I remember the urge of wanting to tell Danish off for not listening to Dad. Yet, deep within I felt it was not the right thing to do and kept myself quiet. Thus, I sat with confusion about the circumstances.
