Each year my first love is visiting my father’s grave on November 1. It started when we were just friends way back in high school. It continued till the time that we felt something special for each other in our college years. Though things are different between the two of us now, I was still expecting that somehow he would still come and give due prayers to my father.

After a disastrous parting with my first love, I said to myself and to my friends that I will move on and live my life without his memories. That is so hard to do, when even the air that I breathe reminds me of him. Even though I still have angst in my heart for him, I could not deny the fact that I missed those small gestures such as visiting my dad’s grave and going to our house every Christmas.

My neck stiffed at looking at the entrance gate to see if he is coming. I was in the cemetery till seven in the evening, it was really dark, but there was a small hope in my heart that he will come. But my brother was already dragging me to go home or else I would have stayed a little bit longer ( to wait and see if he is coming).

The next holiday would be Christmas, on that day I wont be anticipating that he would come. But deep in my heart of hearts I know there will be a small hope that he will come. But maybe things are better this way. He didn’t come…there is only one thing that I am sure of, he moved on. He ended the years of habit between us. It only means that all that had happened everything between us is now his past. Moreover, I know …..I should be doing the same.