Shattered

I was eleven, fifth grade. 

He was still alive and well, as fit as he could ever be. He had a lovely family, a beautiful son they'd just welcomed. It was that festive time of the year again and so we would visit. It was an annual thing ever since the boy was born. At the airport, their faces when they finally meet again made me envious.

He was thirty.

That night, fireworks rose from the garden. I was only a few feet away, staring right at the empty can of coke they used as a stand. A lighted matchstick went near the tip of a firecracker stick, and instantly sparks flew. The cracker made a sound as it shot upwards and into the distant darkness, then bright lights danced across the sky. It was amazing and I was amazed. The night sky came to life for the first time in my life. The light patterns were far more different and realistic than what I've seen before on television shows. I was too little to comprehend what the adults were discussing about amidst the chaos, but everything else was definitely enough to leave a child in awe.

 If you were still here,

I'd have the chance to visit every year and play fireworks like that night.
I'd know and probably be closer to those whom I should have a few years ago.
I'd learn more.
I'd never have to miss your voice again.
I'd never have to dream about you and wake up crying and screaming at my mother.
I'd still get random gifts from you every year.
I'd have someone to turn to when I need.
You'd watch me grow up, be there when I started high school, when I graduated, when I found a job.
You'd give me advices.
You'd tell me not to disobey my mother.
You'd let me ride in your then-brand new Mercedes Benz.
You'd come back, instead of us going over to visit.
You'd take me out for meals, like I've always dreamed of.

You were the closest guidance I could ever get. With you gone, I lost entirely of where to place my foot next. I'd wait for my friends to guide me, and parents to lecture me. I didn't need to, if I still had you.

I would have called and tell you I dreamed of you last night, instead of crying alone here. 

I never wanted you to leave. But you did. 

I still wished you didn't.