it's that way, isn't it?

a few nights later, i was sitting by grandma's bed, reading a book to her. it's evening. i looked up; grandma seems to be asleep. i stopped reading and closed the book. her eyes open.

"hello," i said.

"do you ever miss him?" she asked me.

"everyday. every minute."

"every minute," she said. "yes, it's that way, isn't it?" she turned on her side and burrowed into the pillow.

"good night," i said, turning out the lamp. as i stood in the dark looking down at grandma in her bed, self-pity flooded me as though i have been injected with it. it's that way, isn't it?

isn't it?

oohh.. how i wish i can time-travel..