You never know what you got till it's gone

I have a lot to write about but I don't have the time and by the time that I have the time, I have forgotten completely about the perfect sentences that was formed in my head when I didn't have the time earlier. Okay I'm babbling.

The thing is, I miss my Maktok. She passed away more than a year now. When it was about one year after her death, I started to have dreams about her, gruesome ones. Ones that I couldn't bear to share with my mom. One of them is, she was hanging rope-less facing the ceiling, in the same jubah that she used to wear, with a spear through her torso. And I was staring up, looking at this..this..incident.

Now, I drive past her house everyday. Sometimes I regretted for not calling her more often when she was alive, or visiting her more frequently.

There was this one time, Tun Dr Mahathir came for an event in UTP. He looked so much like my grandmother that I called her right after the event. I missed her at that time. And she sounded so happy when I called her. Why oh why didn't I call her more often after that? It's true, huh? You never know what you got till it's gone. I'm trying not to regret all these things. Maybe it's for the better. Maybe if she is still alive, she'll be in more pain and sufferings. Despite all the drama and scenes in the family, I think when someone passed away, it's better to think of the good memories rather than the bad ones. Grudges will get you nowhere anyway.