when they’re pushing up daisies.

What good are sweet gestures when the receiver is no longer alive?

Why is it that we never see the people in our lives until they’re no longer around? Why do we try to ease our conscience by being extra nice and generous to them at their graves? All your flowers and tears and apologies are in vain. Why do we do this? Why is it that we never learn these things until it’s too late and then we make that same mistake with another person?

We’re all selfish bastards. We are the centres of our universe, so puffed up and arrogant and self-important. Until our worlds come crashing down and we get buried in the debris of our damn regret. And then we realize we’re all so small and we need our pillars of support and they went, not knowing how much they meant to us.

Some time later, we return to being selfish bastards.

I reckon we’ll give an arm and a leg to bring our loved ones back and we’re still not going to learn how to cherish them when they are. We’re almost certainly going to fall into that same narcissistic routine and cry all over again when they’re gone. Again.

Why don’t we save those remorseful tears, apologetic flowers and desperate promises? Get a better bargain. All they need now is a bit of uninterrupted companionship, an occasional whispered ‘I love you’ and you, just being you, beside them, with your mind, heart and soul.

Oh but we’ll never get it. I know I won’t. And all these words, I’m using them against me. One day, when my parents are no more, I’ll scream and wail for them to be back and beat myself up for never letting them know how much they mean to me. But for today, and many more days to come, I’ll continue snapping at them. Why do I do this to myself?

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