and my favourite boy forgets

Last month, I visited my grandpa's house the first time since mid-08. I've been going there every Saturday night since the day I was born, but stopped since my family won't shut up asking about college EVERY BLEEDING WEEK.

I miss him. Brought him porridge one day but he didn't fancy the sesame oil on top. But ate a little. This was in January.

Upon arrival, I brisk walked into the house when my uncle stopped me and said "Oh, he found you."
What?
Your father said he was missing a daughter. I guess he found you now. (At that time, I saw my parents on Sundays only)
My father turned to look at me and continued eating.

I couldn't be bothered, especially since all my aunts were there, and the Singaporeans, and the cousins, ARGH, rushed in to see my grandpa, and salam.
But he was cold. Looked at me with a stern face and watched TV loudly. I felt guilty, of course.
Before I left for home, he was also cold. Usually he would smile. Ask me "Nak balik dah?"

When I left for Singapore in March, he even asked me if I had enough money.

Yesterday, I had a lovely brunch with my family.
We were talking about my brother leaving for UK when my mom asked my dad if Koge was going to remember him (Adam). My dad said no.
News then broke that he does not remember me.

Koge does not remember me.

Surreal.
My favourite boy who's always fascinated with my camera.
My favourite boy who prefers beef pepperoni.
My favourite boy who remembers my grandma's birthday, Ferrero Rocher and jasmine.

Ceasing memory. My poor, poor favourite boy.
It's so surreal. All my life, to me, Koge was immortal.
And now...
Sigh. And now he grows old like everyone does.
Grumpy and cold. My favourite boy.

/// My grandfather is immortal. He does not forget. He does not cough.
He does not die. This wise man.
How I wish I had known he was human. I really, really, really believed he was the type of person who would never forget, never. Even at this age.
Ah, and this will forever be the thing I regret.
Should have sat with him longer than I would usually.
Should have talked to him more.
Should have fucking seen him more often.
What the fuck was I thinking.

I fear now. I fear now his death.
The day I come to terms with
...
I refrain from saying it.
I'm still in denial. How could you?
How could he forget me? What is left of his memory? I want to dive in those folds and find me. Traces of me.
If I would even be in there, I know I don't deserve to. Swim through every single fold, nook and cranny, find me.
It would be like the scene in Eternal Sunshine when Jim Carrey begs to keep his memory of Clementine.

Only this is not a movie.
As I type, I cease meaning to him.
Everyday goes by, I am more a stranger than the next.
The grand finale, I no longer exist.