Albums

I had the privledge to look through 5 albums yesterday at my grandma's memorial. To me, there is nothing more cuter than to know that my grandpa was the person who had put together those albums. There were pictures of all of his children and most of his grandchildren and plethora amount of pictures of just him and her smiling. While I was flipping through the pages, I was imagining him slowly putting in the pictures on each page. His dark, chubby fingers were probably having troubles sliding the pictures in because of his blurred eye vision. I noticed that in the older albums, the pictures were placed together delicately and with different patterns. In the latter ones, there were exactly 2 pictures on each page. It seemed as if his vision had gotten the worst of him, and he was just getting a little tired because of his harmful cancerous cells. Once I reached the last page on the last album, I felt disatisfied. One, because I regret not being able to spend more time with him when he was alive. I wish I knew more about him. Two, the album did not have a "the end" kind of feel. I want more. As selfish as I may sound, I want them to rise from the dead and put a happy face sticker on that page or something. Or they can send me a picture of them wherever they are and I can glue it on the last page. I want them back! Sigh.