Loss...

• Jaden Yu, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2021

The news arrived in the form of a phone call and I couldn’t remember the worst dinner I ever had experienced. The wide eyes of shock were followed quickly by tears as my grandpa on the phone continued speaking and all the while I was kept in the dark but never the less waiting with bated breath and foreboding.

I used to sit on the wooden railing of the staircase when I was one year old in our house screaming “Ar-Pou bring me the hot milk” in Mandarin and my dear grandma would come instantly without a moment of delay, I would take the milk with gratitude and savour the moment while I swung my dangling legs laughing. It is only now I realised how foolish I was not to ask how to say “Could I please,” in Chinese to add to that memorable request. And now I realised that I would never have a chance to hug my dearest grandma (Ar-Pou) and kiss her again.

My grandma and grandpa used to take me to the park where I would instead of sliding down the slide climbing up the slide to the peak where I would rest on the railings and breath the fresh air, the smell of the most natural aroma of nature would never leave my memory. Now I have grown and she would never again be able to watch me and share that precious moment together.

We used to visit my grandma and grandpa in Beijing. Without fail, every single time my sister and I were indulged in their warmest kisses and hugs, there was always the most exquisite Chinese cuisine waiting for us to enjoys our hearts' content.

Grief hit me like never in my life when I knew that my grandma had left this world. Sorrow was scrambling to get out, it was steadily building up inside me. I tried with all my might to hold it in, as I thought I had to be strong, and the voice I heard many times rang in my head “Boys don’t cry”. I told my mum and my friends “I am fine.” But actually I knew, deepest grief and despair was tearing me up inside.

Firstly I realised that I just couldn’t feel happy anymore and gradually the howl of misery and intense horror burst from me and I cried out all that was suppressed, all that I could not contain any longer. That night, my voice echoed through the house both shouting and screaming at each other. In the morning all was quiet but for the gentle sobs barely distinguishable from the whistling and whispers of the wind.
“Cry it out,” mother said to me. “ Crying isn’t a sign of weakness but to decontaminate and save ourselves from implosive anger. “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” Revelation 21:4.