I never met my grandfather. My
ye ye (my father’s father). He passed away long before I was born.
What was he like? Did he like spicy food? Did he have any bad habits? I would
never know. I heard very little about him from my grandma and my father. He was
a drunkard. He drank various alcohol. Any type could think of- beer, rum,
whisky. The only thing he didn't drink was wine. It was too expensive. My
ye ye was also referred to as a simple man who was satisfied with
everything he had. He loved good food and knows all the best places that offer
him both good food and price. My father always told me that before I was born,
my
ye ye always talked about having a granddaughter and how he would tie two
ponytails on her head every morning. It was sad that he never lived to see his
wish come true. Her I am now, typing my thoughts about him. His granddaughter. I was at first disgusted by the fact that he
was a drunkard. Not only did he drink, he was also a womaniser, who cheated on
my grandma with another woman but was never able to go all the way as my
grandma interrupted. Is she a strong person? I don’t really know. With what I see and experience now, my answer would not be strong but would be described as an over believer, materialistic woman. She denies the fact that she is a materialistic person but deep down I know she is. But, even though my ye ye was like that, he also had good points and I wouldn't mind one bit meeting him if I ever go the chance.
My grandfather wasn't
materialistic and I knew it very well. He was satisfied with what he had. He acknowledged
what he had and was proud of it. Lifting his chin and head, he held them in the
air; never ashamed. He didn't bother where he lived, how small the house was, how broke he was, he lived life to the fullest. How I wished my dad was like my grandfather. Although he doesn't
admit it like my grandma, I know. He is definitely a materialistic person.
There were so many evidence that show he is. “If I don’t know that shop that
means it’s not branded.” Not enough prove? Well, then who the hell gives her
daughter a pen for her birthday? Sure it’s Swarovski and all. What’s the big
deal? A pen is still a pen and will always be a pen. You can imagine the look
of disappointment slapped on my face. Maybe I was making it too obvious. I didn't
like things like this. It was horrible that he gave me something I didn't want
for my birthday. What do I want? It was simple-a box of macaroons, some doughnuts, a
book from Typo, a necklace, even a bracelet, shoes, a craft book, new paint, a
drink from Starbucks. Any one of these, I would be jumping around the room in
delight. But no, I got a pen instead. He really didn't know anything about me
did he? Well, what do you expect from someone who barely talks to his daughter and when he does, it was hardly a conversation. The only real conversation that ever happened between us was rare and even though it happened, it felt awkward and I never clicked with him. Maybe, me making the choice to stay
with my dad was a horrible choice. I shouldn’t have done that. I gave up my
friends and moved here thinking it the best for my future. Without releasing, I
didn’t even think of the present. And the consequences of ignoring that fact
was that it was hard to ever feel happiness when I step into the house. The
feeling of always wanting to leave my grandma and dad and running back to my mother was huge. Being
around them was depressing. The amount of negative energy that they emitted was
unbearable. I guess that was why my mom left him. If I was her, I would also do
the same. I mean, who would want to come home to a house filled with negative
energy in every corner?
Hehe hey guys. I decided to write this and try it out. What do you think? haha it's all fiction of course. Enjoy~
