If Only

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ss possibilities that came with it. But now, here I am, lying on my bed, staring blankl

d how to make the perfect grilled cheese sandwich. He was my confidant, the one I could always

roes of grief - cutting off my long locks without a second thought. It was an impulsive move, but somehow it

been trapped in a fog of depression, my days blending into each other in a monotonous cycle of sadness. I se

ng throughout my entire body, leaving me numb to the world around me. I don't want to face the reality

comes with it. It's big enough to hold all the memories I have of Gramps, and I don't need anything

dn't want to face it. I wanted to keep it locked away, hidden deep inside me where no one could see it. But the pain is always there, lurking just below

I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to avoid any thoughts of that place. My hair falls in disarray around me,

they couldn't be more wrong. It's not that easy. Breathing fresh air outside only makes m

temporary distraction from the painful reality. Even if I go out and do something, the knowledge t

piano, music that my grandparents left for me. It's a way to keep their memory alive, to keep a pa

uld make memories with Gramps and Lizzy, my cousin. Now, it's just a place of pain, something I ca

he backyard is filled with flowers my grandmother grew, and there is enough land to grow trees and edible plants

ill never be able to make any more with Gramps. I just want to stay in my r

rited a vast fortune from his family, and he wasted no time in using it to fund his travels across the world. He would alway

armer's daughter living a simple life in the countryside. Despite the vast differences in their backgrounds, my grandfather was relentless in his pursuit of

ettled down with my grandmother and brought her back to the United States with him. Together, they raised th

not without its share of pain. My grandmother had struggled to adjust to her

y, my grandfather's hea

n, he w

e pain of knowing that they were gone and I could never see them again. I longed for the comfort of their embrace, the sound of their voices, the memories

but it's distant, like i

o face her, don't want to look into her eyes and see the disappointment, the worry. Bu

om

t I don't have the energy to argue, so I say, "Yeah." I reach for the music player on my nightstand, turning down the volume to a dull hum.

nkles around her eyes, the slight sag of her skin. It's a reminder of how much time has passed, how

she asks, her voice

d to the messy sheets coveri

ally feeling. But I can't give her that. I can't let her see

a knife. "I miss how you used to talk to me, tell me about your day, yo

h you," I say, my voice mono

re," she replies, and her voice breaks a

on't want to argue, don

barely above a whisper. "Your father won't be home f

el like I'm suffocating, drowning in my own pain. And I can see it in her eyes

ow with pain. My mind was clouded with grief and despair, a

y grown affectionate towards us, but even he

indedly, my fingers tracing over the fabric as

alking. That's all," I murmured,

d, and I could see the tears brimming in her eyes. She tried to hold them ba

erstood what I was going through. "I know that I may never be able to understand the pain y

ey." She managed to make me lift my face up to look at her, and I saw a fli

broke off suddenly, her shoulders heaving as she took a deep breath before continuing, "We mi

t. The pain seeped into my every nerve, my every fiber, until I could feel it pulsing through my body like a living,

d loss that had left me numb and empty inside. But now, with my mother's words echoing in my ears, something shi

plets tracing their way down my numb cheeks. But before she could react, I

eight of all my grief and pain lift off me, if only for a moment. Her hands caress

attempt to keep myself together. But now, in my mother's arms, I felt th

other whispered, her voice a soft murmur in my ear. Her other hand

embrace, feeling the weight of my grief slowly lift

unending torrent. The pain that I had been hiding for so long was finally bursting forth, a

of my head as she let me cry. I knew that, under any other circumstance, she would have been

s that I had been holding back for so long. "I do

small measure of solace in my time of need. I buried my face in her shoulder, staring bla

sided, I found myself lost in a sea of memories of my Gramps. My mother's embrace was

etie, I'm still here. You still have someone you can lean on..." Her words offered a glimmer

*

uldn't refuse, even though it meant coming

n and slumped onto one of the chairs at the dining

ed tissue in my hands, trying to wipe away the tears that still lingered on my cheeks. She hand

h lost in our own thoughts. But eventually, my mother broke the ice with

pen up to me, Jade," she said softly,

ldn't even articulate what was going on inside me. But the way my mother looked at m

it, a gesture of care that warmed my heart. Taking a sip, I savored the famil

ad felt anything close to calm since my grandfather had passed away. The sound of the boiling water, the clink of

t of my mouth, raw and unfiltered. It was the first time I had opened up to anyon

hat I wasn't alone. Even in the darkest moments, she was there, re

other's warm smile was a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside of me

rsistent efforts to pull me out of my self-imposed isolation, I would still be trapped in my room, d

own with trembling hands. Summoning all my courage, I lifted my g

in hers, her touch soothing and comforting. "

understand the depths of my pain a

nough, I would still be locked up in my room, and now that I'm finally out, I could

under. I struggled to keep my emotions in check, knowing t

ou talk about your day and all... and you know I'm not getting

ed soul, and I let out a shaky laugh through

onth so... I never really had someone to t

ther, and my mood soured instantly. I

way," I said,

my mother defended, but we both

understand, but not making time for Gramps o

ed to heal. How could he not spare a day or two to say goodbye to his

re," I said, my voice lo

bout this," my mot

ulling away from the table and

bove their family, even in death. It was the ultimate betrayal, an

e, he claimed to have noble intentions of helping those in poverty, offering them a glimmer of hope by providing a year

stark reminder that, despite his supposed generosity, he didn't truly care about anyone but himself. He was wi

discoveries. My father followed in his footsteps, but for entirely different reason

who was supposed to be a role model, a mentor, had become an object of disdain. I couldn't help but wonder wha

: my father was driven b

gh Empowerment', is known to the world as a hero, a philanthropist, and a beacon of hope for the le

n to help people in need. But it wasn't because of a deep sense of compass

e with a camera crew in tow, ready to capture every moment for publicity. He used his connections in the

of others and reveled in the attention he received. It was never ab

hope to many, but to me, it will always be a symbol o

were pre

unique skills, train them for years, and send them out to the public to earn

volunteers as they want. They journey around the world just to look for them. There's n

t could make them valuable to the cause. Singers, musicians, artists, writers, actors, and other creative individuals are highly soug

d by storm. With a little push, it could even become the biggest talent industry in the whole world. But at what cost? The t

ses. When the recruits are deemed ready, they are dubbed 'volunteers' and dispatched to big cities like Los Angeles, New York, and Europe, where they are provided a platform to showcase their talents. Some founders build galleries to promote their art

ected to earn a speci

funds collected by vol

on and channeled towards charitable causes such as supporting

ruited the volunteer, compensating them for the

20% is allocated to t

a short amount of time, but when you're in the thick of it, it's a lifetime. The organization becomes your everything. Your identity, your purpo

trap. Renew their contract, and become an official member of the organization, with all the power and privilege that comes w

of the organization. But I don't want to be like him. I don't want to be obsessed with money and power. But the weight of my responsibility is crushing. At onl

t is the heart that knows everything," echo in my mind. I wish he were still here, to guide me, to