I enter 2012

without a Grandfather.

The news came while we were having breakfast. Shock as anyone could've imagined. Mother literally went mad - crying, wailing and screaming at the face of any. With the deliverance of the bad news, all plans for celebrations turned into a funeral procession.

Throughout the day I kept on reminding myself there's a slight possibility the family did a mistake and he hasn't died.

His face was all I could remember. Kissing him for one last time, and seeing the look before he would be sent away. Without any illness or health complications, he shut his eyes and opened a different chapter in our lives.

It was only after we had completed his death, stories came about. A month before the 31st December, after my brother married his wife, Grandpa went over to him, telling him with his marriage he can now die with his eyes close tight. Ten days before his leaving, he told my cousin that in 10 days time he'll be gone. None of these would've made sense to minds as he had always been the joker.

Truth is, I still hasn't come to terms to his death, as I dreamt of him coming home, telling us all it was a mistake and he was only in deep sleep. I don't know the ways to get this into my head. I failed to fulfil my intention in having him next to me in Anfield, watching the boys do us proud. I can no longer have tea with him, the last thing he promised to have with me, a month before he went away.

I didn't do the things I promised myself and him, and I am unable to perform it now. There is a part of me praying this would all be a dream.

He passed as a good man, few hours after the team we both supported take home the win.

Apart from the regret, I get to care for him when he fell ill, and see him for the last time - when we nearly missed the goodbye as I was with friends.

Grandpa, I hope we'll see each other in the next life and you will still love me as how I do now. I miss you..