The Stratagem’s Archive

Category: Relationship

  • What Asexuality Taught Me About Living In Between

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    In the Middle — In The Gray

    I’ve never been in a relationship — not because I couldn’t be, but because something about the way people talked about love, dating, and intimacy never quite landed right with me.

    I thought maybe I was just “independent.”

    That I was wired differently.

    That maybe I had trust issues.

    That maybe I was just too tired for all of it.

    People projected their thoughts and fears onto me:

    “You’ll change your mind when you meet the right person.”

    “You’re just scared of being vulnerable.”

    “You’re just picky.”

    “You’re going to be alone forever if you don’t try.”

    I got tired of explaining myself, so I stopped. I figured if I was going to be misunderstood, I might as well be quiet about it. For years, I stayed silent about what I wasn’t feeling — and tried to pretend it didn’t mean anything.

    But two months ago, I found the word I didn’t know I was missing that described what I kept telling people with too many sentences:

    Asexual.

    Suddenly, I had a framework — not a label to box myself into, but a spectrum that felt like home. And while I’m still learning about it, still questioning and exploring, I finally understand something I’ve been living with my whole life:

    I’ve always existed in the gray spaces.

    And I always have.

    Not Broken — Just Different

    I used to feel like something was wrong with me.

    • Why didn’t I daydream about love the way other people did?
    • Why did romance in movies feel like background noise instead of a goal?
    • Why didn’t I feel the “spark” that seemed to guide everyone else’s decisions?

    I felt pressure — subtle and loud — from all sides:

    Could We Talk About Relationships?

    Like, seriously, could we?

    • People coupling up just to avoid loneliness.
    • Friends moving from one relationship to the next without breathing.
    • Others settling down not because they were in love, but because they were tired of waiting.

    One of my aunty’s asked if I’d ever cook for a (man), while we were watching “Gilmore Girls” during our weekly family dinners. I told her, “No, but cooking is an essential skill anyone should learn for themselves.”

    Her question was very sudden, but I thought she was asking for something deeper than she let on, but I didn’t press after answering her second question of, “what can I cook?”

    And I hated how this obsession to be paired up had been normal, had been the driving force that being in a relationship was all that mattered.

    People weren’t going to “fix” my problems if they had their own struggles and insecurities to handle. Adding our crazy to their crazy? That’s a ball destined to drop and it’s a matter of “when”, not “if”, at that point.

    I didn’t want to be with someone out of fear.

    I didn’t want to be chosen because I was there — convenient, available, the “last resort.”

    And I didn’t want to choose someone just to fill a silence I hadn’t made peace with in myself.

    We’re all lonely.

    And these relationships, in my opinion, never last.

    What Queerplatonic Bonds Showed Me

    Since learning about asexuality, I’ve also been learning about something called queerplatonic relationships (QPRs). They challenge the hierarchy that says romantic love is the only love that really matters.

    They’re deeply committed friendships that blur the lines society forces on us — not romantic, not casual, not just “best friends.” Something deeper. Chosen. Defined by the people in it.

    And when I learned about QPRs, something inside me clicked again.

    That kind of intimacy?

    That kind of intentional connection — that honors boundaries and still says, “you matter to me”?

    That’s the kind of relationship I could see myself showing up for.

    I don’t need the romance script.

    I don’t need to be rescued.

    I don’t need to follow anyone else’s timeline.

    But I do need something that feels true, mutual, and emotionally safe. Something where I can offer depth and presence without pretending I’m someone I’m not.

    I’m Not Against Relationships — I Just Don’t Want to Settle

    The truth is, I’m not “averse” to relationships.

    But I’ve also never been in one.

    And I’ve never felt the urgency that so many others seem to have to get into a relationship so quickly.

    If a relationship happens mutually, it happens.

    But it won’t be rushed.

    It won’t be forced just to avoid loneliness.

    It won’t be rooted in fear or urgency or expectation.

    And it definitely won’t be at the cost of who I am.

    I’ve seen too many people get stuck in something they don’t even want, because they thought they had to. Because children entered the picture before they were ready. Because they didn’t stop to ask themselves:

    “Is this what I want, or just what I’ve been told to want?”

    For example, I don’t want children of my own.

    I’m not against adoption, but only if life ever gives me the space, time, health, and stability to care for myself and someone else.

    I know first hand how hard it is to care for a kid when parents were kids just fresh out of high school. No more prepared than a drop out; the year I was born was the year my dad graduated high school— my parents stayed together, they both did what they could even though they struggled, and my dad would remind me often that, “they made a choice, and they chose to own up to it,” rather than letting my grandparents adopt me.

    So, I’ve witnessed it first hand why now isn’t in the cards to care for another person, except myself right now.

    Speaking of right now?

    I’m just trying to survive my 2 jobs.

    I’m trying to sleep more than 3 hours a night.

    Trying to hold onto the version of myself that doesn’t scream in exhaustion every day.

    And even through all of that, I’m still showing up to write — because somewhere out there, someone might read this and say:

    “Me too.”

    What I Want Now: Intentional Connection

    I want friendships where we really see each other — not just pretend we like each other because of what we can take from someone or give.

    I want shared silence that doesn’t feel awkward.

    I want loyalty that isn’t possessive or only from convenience.

    I want support that doesn’t require me to sacrifice myself just to be worthy of it or beg for the bare minimum of care and basic human need.

    I want to feel safe and known.

    That’s all.

    That’s everything.

    I don’t need someone to “fix” me.

    I just want to be allowed to exist in the gray — the in-between — and still be enough.

    I’ve Been Let Down Too Many Times — Now I Know What I Value

    It took years for me to figure out what my values and needs are from having so many friends treat me like I was expendable, worthless, useless, and not even their friend. I was only kept around out of convenience because I was loyal, supported my friends with my time, energy, with gifts my grandma made, and even with my own money.

    It hurt when I was going through a rough time in my high school wrestling career and, where I wanted encouragement, my circle of friends told me to quit.

    I didn’t want to quit, and I told them quietly that I didn’t want to quit. The two friends I followed into the wrestling room quit the first day. They said it was too hard, but I had a lot of fun, even though it was the first real sport I tried out, stuck with for 1 year, and it wasn’t purely academic either.

    When I didn’t take their advice, one friend I knew since second grade yelled at me, she was the loud one in our group, for, “not taking their advice for my problem.”

    Things were already like that where, in the “family dynamic” you have with friends, I wasn’t the “daughter, sister, or aunty.” Nope. I was the crazy neighbor with the bat. I used to just accept those labels, accepted that giving as much as I could without asking for anything in return, except to be included, would somehow let me be part of the group.

    It was worse trying to make plans with everyone to walk around the mall or hang out after school and everyone would all be simultaneously busy. Every morning before class, without fail, they would all talk about how they had fun hanging out at the pool, at the beach, with each other, but no one invited me, not once.

    So, I stayed silent, I kept myself small, hoping and waiting to be included, all just so I wouldn’t be alone either.

    The Patterns Were Repeating — And I Didn’t See It Until a Decade Later

    After I graduated high school, it was time for the next step with attending college. I figured, “new school, no one knows me, so I could be whoever I wanted to be.”

    Yet the same habits came up again and again; because I didn’t know anyone, I would socially withdraw and keep to myself. I would speak to people, but no one really stuck around to exchange numbers with.

    I made friends with 3 people at college who I hung out with the most, though 1 friend had been in my life for 10 years until very recently this year.

    From my experiences with my high school friends and my supposed “best friend” from college who made me feel seen, who didn’t run or criticize me when my temper flared, who made me think things were going to be different, just ended up being the same.

    It took another decade to see that the friends I made were only in it for the “fun time” and when things were convenient and not the “long and difficult times.” No different from any terrible relationship, huh?

    They Hurt Me — But That’s How I Learned What Really Matters.

    After everything I went through with each of my friendships, even my most longest standing friend of 10 years, I finally learned what I value in a friendship/relationship, even though it was hard to.

    But What Good is “History” If There’s No Future? So, below was the start of my future going forward:

    • Clear and direct communication
    • Reciprocity
    • Respect: as an adult, of my time and efforts, and my boundaries
    • Accountability of choices and actions
    • Authenticity
    • Intellectual and physical growth
    • Personal goals
    • Peace of mind, not distress
    • Shared direction

    I’m not asking for perfection — I’m asking for depth. I’ve had enough of shallow relationships that only go as far as what I can give. From now on, I only build with those who want to grow beside me, not because they have to.

    Too many have to’s never showed up for me or kept themselves accountable, so I had to learn to be the friend I wish I had, even though I hate myself.

    An Invitation to Anyone in the Gray

    If you’ve ever felt like you’re “not enough” for love…

    If you’ve never seen yourself in the stories people tell about romance…

    If you’re still figuring out your values, your boundaries, your wants and needs…

    If you’ve felt pressure to settle just to stop being alone…

    Then you’re not alone.

    You’re not broken.

    You don’t have to rush.

    You don’t have to explain yourself to everyone.

    Your way of loving — or not loving — is valid.

    Your pace is allowed.

    Your silence is sacred.

    This is a gray space.

    And it’s a safe space.

    Thanks for sitting with me in it.

    Gently, I ask:

    Have you ever questioned the way you relate to love or connection?

    What do you value most in a friendship, or in the people closest to you?

    What are you still learning to accept about yourself?

    I’m always open to hearing your thoughts — quietly, anonymously, or even just through reading. You can comment below, like, share, or subscribe for more stories like this, or just keep sitting with this post until you’re ready.

    Take what you need.

    Leave what you don’t.

    You’re always welcome here.

    Thank you.

    — The Stratagem’s Archive

  • Could We Talk About Relationships?

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    — A Gray Space Reflection

    “You are the sum of the five people you hang out with most.”

    — Alux.com

    I saw this quote again the other day — you know the one. It gets shared a lot in self-help circles, in Instagram carousels, in motivational reels from guys in suits sitting in Lamborghinis. It sounds wise at first. Measurable. Self-assured.

    But then I thought:

    If I don’t hang out with anyone… what does that make me?

    A zero?

    A ghost?

    An undefined variable?

    It’s strange how easily we assign worth to people by who they’re next to — as if your value exists only in relation to others. As if the only way to be someone is to be reflected back by someone else.

    So maybe that’s where I’ll start this.

    Not with answers.

    But with a question:

    Could we talk about relationships?

    What I’ve Seen: Love by Fear, Not by Choice

    A lot of the people I know didn’t fall into love — they fell into fear.

    • Fear of being alone.
    • Fear of being the last one single in the group.
    • Fear of being left behind by people getting married, having kids, “moving on.”
    • Some dated because the person they wanted wanted them back, and that felt rare. Others settled because they thought waiting for something better made them ungrateful.
    • Some slept with people they didn’t really like just to feel something.

    And when it all crashed and burned, they called it a “lesson.”

    But sometimes it didn’t look like a lesson.

    It looked like guilt. Shame. Emotional scars. Unspoken resentment. Children brought into situations where no one was ready. And people — both the leavers and the left — trying to claw their way back to some sense of self they lost trying to “belong” to someone else.

    What Gets Projected Onto Me (That Isn’t Mine to Carry)

    As an asexual woman, I’ve had people assume all kinds of things about me:

    That I’m:

    emotionally repressed, broken, lonely scared of intimacy, secretly gay, or just waiting for the “right” person to fix me.

    And none of those assumptions had anything to do with me.

    They were about them.

    Their own fears. Their own confusion.

    I had a coworker tell me that he, “didn’t want me to wake up at age 32, single, unhappy, and lonely.” We’re the same age, separated by months with him being older, and his words felt very specific.

    I called him out on his words, that it sounds like he’s projecting his own fears onto me, and he never brought relationships up again.

    It’s maddening to me with people’s opinions like that: Their discomfort with someone who isn’t playing the same game — who isn’t treating sex or relationships like the final boss level of life.

    It’s hard to explain that I’m not “missing” something.

    That I’m not holding out.

    That I don’t need to be saved from myself.

    The Anime That Got Me Thinking

    I’ve been watching a show recently:

    “There’s No Freaking Way I’ll Be Your Lover!”

    It’s a yuri harem anime on the surface, but underneath the tropes, it dives into something deeper:

    What’s the line between platonic love and romantic love?

    What happens when someone wants closeness — but not romance?

    In one scene, the main character asks a friend:

    “Do you think there’s a difference between friends and a partner?”

    And without skipping a beat, her friend replies:

    “Romantic relationships are best known by if the person turns you on.”

    That line caught me and the main character off guard— because it was so blunt, so sure of itself.

    It made the answer feel easy. Obvious.

    But then I asked myself:

    If that’s the only difference… then how is that not just “friends with benefits”?

    What separates love from lust?

    And if a friendship holds emotional depth, loyalty, vulnerability, and time — what makes it “less than” a relationship without sex?

    Why is physical desire the gold star we stamp on a bond and call it real?

    Where I Stand: Somewhere in the Gray

    I’ve never been in a relationship — and I used to feel , and made to feel, ashamed of that.

    Not because I felt broken or unwanted…

    but because people made me feel like that fact invalidated my ability to speak on love or connection.

    As if watching people I care about suffer through toxic or empty relationships wasn’t enough evidence to say,

    “Hey… maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

    I’m not a relationship expert.

    But I’ve witnessed a lot of people use each other to hide from themselves.

    And I’ve seen what happens when we pretend sex equals intimacy, and loneliness equals failure.

    The truth is, I don’t think romance is the only way people can feel fulfilled.

    And I don’t think friendship is a lesser love.

    Some of the most meaningful, healing, supportive bonds in my life have had nothing to do with desire, but were just as devastating when betrayed by someone we’ve chose to let into our life.

    They had everything to do with presence. Care. Understanding. Even if they didn’t realize it when things fell apart.

    So, Could We Talk About It?

    Not about “just vibes.”

    Not about rom-com tropes.

    Not about timelines and expectations and who-should-do-what.

    But the real stuff. The questions that don’t always have answers.

    Like:

    • Why do we feel behind if we’re not in a relationship?
    • Why does being wanted sexually feel like a badge of worth?
    • Why do we treat friendship like a stepping stone instead of a destination?
    • Why do people project so much fear onto others who live differently?

    And most of all:

    Why does wanting something deeper than “just don’t be alone” feel so rare to find in others?

    Closing the Loop (Not the Door)

    I don’t know if I’ll ever be in a relationship.

    I’m not against the idea — I’m just not willing to chase a fantasy that others sold me when I already know it doesn’t fit.

    But I do want connection.

    I want friendship that isn’t afraid of depth.

    Conversations that don’t flinch at honesty.

    Care that isn’t conditional on performance, or looks, or how well I can play a part I didn’t audition for.

    If you’ve ever felt this way too, I hope you know —

    you’re not broken. You’re not late. You’re not alone.

    Maybe you’re just in a gray space like me.

    And maybe gray spaces are where the most honest questions live.

    What about you?

    Have you ever been in a relationship that wasn’t really about love?

    Or had a friendship that meant more than anything else — but didn’t “count” because it wasn’t romantic?

    You don’t have to agree with everything I’ve written — but if something here stirred something in you, feel free to comment, share, like, subscribe, or sit quietly with me for a while.

    Sharing, liking, subscribing might help others like us find their way to this little quiet, gray space of the internet.

    This blog is a gray space. And gray spaces need voices, needs questions and reflection, not just answers.

    Thank you.

  • What Good is “History” If There’s No Future?

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    “I ended a decade-long friendship, not out of hate, but from a quiet realization: what good is history if no one’s building a future with you? This is for anyone who’s ever been the third wheel in their own friendship — and finally chose to walk away.”

    A Heavy Passing Thought

    My head was throbbing, my body felt like it was burning from the inside out, and depressiveness pulled my mood down while I was at work today.

    I hated that most of my (younger) coworkers were standing around, talking stories, and letting work pile up without a care in the world. They were literally next to me — more focused on their plans, their activities, their friendships and relationships — something I wanted to do too. But, instead of working so we could go home at a decent time, we finished WAY later than hoped.

    Then, someone I knew briefly passed in my mind’s eye. Someone I thought mattered because of how long we knew each other, but only showed how little I mattered.

    I haven’t thought about him in two months.

    That’s how long it’s been since I chose to walk away from a decade-long friendship.

    Not quietly.

    Not with ease.

    But with the weight of years pressing on my back — years I thought meant something, until they didn’t.

    We had “history,” sure. But one morning, under freight that was too heavy for one person while the rest stood around laughing, I realized something:

    What good is history if there’s no future being built in the present?

    It hit me so hard, I wrote it down in the middle of my shift before I forgot.

    When the Scales Are Unevenly Tipped

    This friend — let’s just call him my “supposed best friend of 10 years” — told me he still cared. That our friendship mattered to him.

    But when my family was attacked during a typical gathering, and I needed him most?

    He vanished.

    Not a word.

    Until I reached out 2 weeks later, not about the pain, but about an anime convention we had planned to go to.

    And even then, when we saw each other…

    He clung to his girlfriend.

    Wouldn’t look me in the eye.

    Wouldn’t even walk beside me.

    I would walk ahead of them and then would had to slow down to let them catch up.

    But they always went at their own pace, and never did back their words up with any action. Not physically. Not emotionally. Not once. Just pretty empty words and the likelihood that I was going to accept them as I used to. Keywords: Used to.

    “Busy” Was Too Big of an Ask

    I was the one who initiated our texts about 70-90% of the time. Even when I texted after my friend was off from work, he wouldn’t reply for weeks or even a month later.

    I asked for one thing — a one-word text: “Busy.”

    That’s all. Just something to calm the storm in my head and not me assuming the worst.

    But I was told I was asking too much.

    Told I wasn’t imposing — even as I trailed behind like a ghost, forgotten and unacknowledged, yet in plain sight.

    I Burned the Bridge Because It Was Already Collapsing

    Let me be clear: I didn’t walk away because I was impulsive.

    I walked away because I had already stayed too long in something that no longer respected me.

    Something that stopped including me.

    And once he got what he really wanted — companionship, a girlfriend, even among his already large group of successful friends and mentors and string of one night stands before meeting someone he wanted to build a life with — the friendship became an afterthought. A convenience. A placeholder.

    Just like I became.

    I don’t think he meant to hurt me. But he did.

    And me? I was just always there, even if we lived in different towns connected by texts and D&D Discord sessions. Until I wasn’t.

    Walking Away Hurts. But So Did Staying.

    It took me nearly two weeks after the decision to stop myself from reaching out.

    Another month to find the courage to delete both their numbers for good.

    And now, two months in, I feel the silence. Still. But I don’t regret my decision.

    Because silence from someone who once said, “You matter,” is the loudest answer you can get.

    I refuse to hold onto a friendship that wouldn’t hold space for me back.

    The Shift Was Clear and So Was My Choice

    Even before walking away, I started to rebuild — after I told him I was too busy working 2 jobs, getting little sleep each night, and I’d get back to him when I could. Until I didn’t.

    I was silent for 1 month, and in that time it was the most he ever reached out to me, asking how I was and how living on my own was. That was bothered me, he reached out when I said I’d get back when I could, but I ignored him and kept building my own future.

    It was when I started my blog, grieving alone in my apartment after burying my grandpa and being surrounded by family who wanted nothing to do with us when he passed, while my friend got to keep having fun, being surrounded by friends, while I kept to myself and my work.

    The final straw was when I confronted him when he and his girlfriend came to town for vacation. He only reached out to me because his girlfriend was hanging out with her own friends here, not because he wanted to hang out with me. I was the last resort that he reached out to and I wanted to crush my phone when I read his texts.

    I was livid, I was furious, and the words spilled all over the text when I confronted him, “what are we to each other?”

    He said he needed time to think and I told him he had every right to think things over and to have a nice vacation. I had his number on mute for a while, until that day arrived.

    2 weeks later, he texted back, saying that he still valued our friendship and that he still cared. I laughed so bitterly I couldn’t recognize my own voice. I gave him so many chances to show up when I needed him and he never did when it mattered.

    I never told him about my grandpa’s passing because of how his silence affected me prior to when I told him of my family’s assault.

    I refused to tell him about my blog because experience made me hesitate. He would put some of my work down because he knew someone better equipped and skilled, but I shared a part of myself and had it broken in front of me.

    So, I had enough and left. For good and without explanation.

    For Anyone Who’s Been the Third Wheel to Their Own Friendship

    You’re not crazy for noticing the shift.

    You’re not selfish for asking for presence, for reassurance, for basic care.

    And you’re not wrong for walking away.

    Friendship isn’t measured only in years.

    It’s measured in reciprocity. In effort. In being seen.

    Not with begging to be given scraps of attention, begging your supposed “friend” to include you or accepting that they tell you how you’re “too much” or “asking for too much.”

    After 10 years, and from other past friendships, I realized what I value most in a real friendship:

    • Clear and direct communication.
    • Reciprocity.
    • Respect (as an adult), of my time, efforts, and boundaries.
    • Self-improvement.
    • Authenticity.
    • Accountability of choices and actions.
    • Peace of mind.
    • Shared direction.

    So if you’re holding onto a “history” with someone who stopped showing up in your “now,” ask yourself what kind of future you’re building — and with who.

    Because if they’re not building it with you…

    Then maybe it’s time to start building it without them.

    If you’ve felt this before — the quiet end of a long friendship — this space is for you.

    You don’t need to shrink or explain it away.

    You’re allowed to grieve.

    You’re allowed to rebuild.

    And most of all — you’re allowed to walk away from the people who didn’t choose you, even when you chose them over and over again.

    For Those Who Wander

    To those reading this — tired, wondering, still searching — this place is for you.

    I call it The Stratagem’s Archive — a place to rest, reflect, and remember that your story still matters.

    No matter how quiet. No matter how heavy.

    You’re welcome here.

    You’re Invited

    Did any part of this sit with you?

    If you’ve ever felt the same — or even something close — you’re not alone.

    I’d love to hear what came up for you, if you feel like sharing. Whether it’s a quiet “me too,” a story of your own, or just a thought you’ve been holding, the comments are open — and so am I.

    No pressure, no performance. Just space

    Thank you for walking with me — even for just a moment.

    We may not always know where we’re going,

    but if we’re still writing, we’re still alive.

  • $200 in Exchange For More Time and Memories

    What’s the most money you’ve ever spent on a meal? Was it worth it?

    Before every Outback Steakhouse closed down in my state, it was the restaurant that my family would go to for lunch and dinner. It was the closest, and one of the better, sit down restaurant where it would be roughly a 20 minute drive for both sides of our family to get there.

    We used to buy a lot of appetizers before the entrees and then pack in dessert. For 2 people in a HCOL state, $200 is roughly the norm, including tip as well.

    The reason Outback was special was because it had been where I used to take my grandpa for his birthdays – I wasn’t making much money, but it was worth spending the little money I was earning – to hang out and talk stories with him.

    Good food, good company, what else could anyone ask for?

    I hadn’t hung out with my grandparent’s on my Mom’s side often, I usually didn’t feel like going to visit their house because I just preferred to stay home. Although, I used to work the night shift before, so I couldn’t hang out regardless during the week.

    Just so happen, my grandpa’s birthday landed on my days off, so I called him to hang out and we met up. He’d try to ask me if we could do lunch whenever I was free, but our days wouldn’t always line up because of our jobs. Gramps wasn’t retired yet, he was pretty young, so the movie productions would call him to work and I had my job to do too.

    Anyways, I remember some of the stories he used to tell me:

    • His time in the US Army after her graduated high school.
    • When he was stationed in Japan and in South Korea during the Propaganda war between North and South Korea, I think. (I remember the propaganda part, that was crazy!)
    • He was one of the few American soldiers that was able to compete, and win, in the Korean soldier’s Taekwondo military competitions.
    • He used to be the unofficial quartermaster in his unit. Whatever you needed: money, steaks, cigarettes, beer, he was able to get it and provided. He even remembered selling to his CO’s and they wouldn’t bother.

    I remember that he shared a few of his regrets. Gramps was a stubborn guy, like it was either his way or the highway kind of stubborn. He wished he made different choices if he had the chance. He told me that he:

    • Wished he stayed the full 20 years of active service to have gotten the pension and benefits from the military. He only completed 17 years.
    • Instead of joining the movie productions as an equipment driver, he wished he became a Stevedore instead. He mentioned they had great benefits and were part of a good union, but he was young and arrogant then.

    My Grandpa seemed vulnerable during those moments. I know that, as he got weaker, no one took him seriously at the house. I would tell my younger cousins that, if Gramps was as young as he was when I came into the picture, they’d be shitting themselves.

    They didn’t believe me because the Gramps they grew up with was very different from the Gramps I grew up with.

    At family gatherings, I’d help him cook. He’d show me how he did things, be it steak or making shrimp tempura from scratch. I listened when I was there because it seemed no one else was listening. Not even my younger, and his favorite of us, cousins.

    We recently had his funeral – he was in and out of the hospitals and we all thought he was getting better – and it didn’t look like he was dead in his casket. He looked like he was sleeping instead.

    I waited to see if he was going to sit up and have this as some sick joke because we didn’t visit as often like we said, make us come together in a morbid way. But he didn’t. He didn’t wake up.

    Much like my other grandpa who died when I was graduating Elementary school, though he had Alzheimer’s, I’ll eventually forget this grandpa’s stories: I’ll forget how he sounds like, what he smelled like, how he used to play music and sing. I might eventually forget the songs he sang along to too. I know what they are, I had most of them on my first IPhone in high school, but I won’t be able to hear him sing along anymore.

    Just like my other grandpa who passed years prior, the only memory I can remember is when he used to hum to himself. Just a tune when his mind was good. I used to copy him intuitively to remember. Even his tune is a broken forgotten melody I struggle to pull to the surface.

    Even though I didn’t have the money then, I could have made more money, made more time for him. But I was more worried about my paternal Grandma I lived with because she was much older than my maternal grandpa that I thought we’d have more time.

    The last time he was strong was when we celebrated my 28th birthday at the Cheesecake Factory last year. I was working the night shift when he passed away in the hospital this year.

    My parents told me the morning after I finished work, and on my day off, that he passed and I asked them why they didn’t call me. They said that they didn’t want to tell me while I was working and that they didn’t want me to remember my gramps’s last moments with his passing.

    I could have at least been there, but that time passed and now he’s gone. I don’t think of him much these days, but when I do, I still cry. Like I didn’t grieve enough at his funeral.

    I wish I had more time, I wish I didn’t waste what time I had, and I’d trade all the money I have and more if I could have been around more. But I can’t and I’ve learned from my mistakes with my surviving Grandmas. Do more than I did before.

    Even though I had spent $200 at Outback to celebrate the few birthdays the two of us went for him, it was worth the memories we have and I miss him.