Night falls, the moon is shining at its brightest; I look into the sky, lit with many stars. One star is shining at me as if it is telling me a story. I suddenly remembered one of the stories told by my grandmother, that good human beings become stars after their death. I gave a giggle, and then suddenly felt that things around me were dead. There was eerie in the air, I looked back at the star.
It was telling me something. I remembered my grandfather at that time. His handsome and lively face came to my eyes, I felt hugging him up. I grieved out suddenly after long 6 years of his death; I had lost an important part of me, the roots, which provide you with the water and minerals to survive this world.
In this world of pressure and stress, I had lost my way, the route to attain self-attenuation. I wish my roots were with me. Sadly I have lost it and haven’t known the importance since I couldn’t leave with them. Leaving without your elderly support, during your young age is like having tea without sugar. I wish I could rewind the pages of my history, and give some time to my white-haired ones. Sadly it can’t happen so, wisdom’s to be learnt from them have been lost and I have lost to earn the treasure of knowledge. With a supposition, I console myself by remembering the lines by author Ann Morse ” The history of grandparents is remembered not with rose petals but in laughter and tears of their children and their children s’ children. It is into that the lives of grandparents have gone. It is in us that history becomes future” So It is with me, they exist and will exist forever.