I remember how you’d love to drink a bottle of orange yakult in the mornings.
I remember how impressed I was when you were reading the Chinese newspaper and talked to your friend so fluently.
I remember your attempts to make me amused with your rendition of the national song.
I remember how interestingly blue the iris of your eyes are.
I remember the way you talked, always gentle.
Alas, you’d never drink your yakult anymore. Nor read the Chinese papers. Nor sing that silly song that you made up.
You passed away yesterday night.
Though we werent so close mainly because we lived so far apart. I still cant help but feel like my heart is being dented. You were a good man. You were a wonderful grandfather.