Mum told me today that the candles in the living room is burning for my grandfather. A grandfather I never met in an age where I could actually remember it, that I never got to know. Apparently it's exactly 18 years since he died and left so many behind.

I can somehow not feel the same way as, for example, mum or gran does. They remember him and mourn his passing by lighting candles, but what about me? Why is the candles burning in my room too? I had not capability of feeling grief when I was so small, I hadn't the capability of even knowing what had happened. I've grown up with a grandfather who's dead. And that's what I believe I'm thinking of today. I grieve that I never got the chance to know what it's like to have a grandfather.