My Family is

I am a sponge.
I am sorry Father for eating up your money.
You could have continued your violin lessons for that money.
But instead I am devouring a bowl of raspberry trifle all to myself.

Father, what's it like to have worked for 30 years without taking sick leave?

Mum, what's it like to stay in a loveless marriage for bread and your hobbies?

Older Brother, what's it like to have a claw hand and be unable to tell people of the incident?

Eldest Brother, what's it like to apologise to your sister for the way he acted for all of his life?

What’s it like?

What's it like to lose your taste buds and now stomach because of damn cancer, Grandma?

Granddad, what's it like to look after your weak wife with your bent back while you lean on a stick?

What's it like never to meet any of your grandchildren and that your name doesn't come to us easily, Grandma?

Granddad, what's it like to look down on us from heaven watching us do things wrong?

I am a sponge.
I am sorry Father for eating up your money so that I can do whatever I want, instead of you doing more of what you want.
You could have travelled more often to see us in a country of histories and cultures, your favourite.

My father, for him to say in his reply, ‘thank you for your e-mail’,
it means something, something to me as his daughter.

My father never fails to response. He is the most responsible person I know.
He reads a whole book every Sunday. He used to buy books so much that he accidentally bought two copies.

His room creaked because his room was not meant to be a huge library.
My granddad's death, it reminded him of how much stuff we leave behind.
Now his room doesn't creak any more.

I am sorry I am a sponge.
I am a spoiled sponge.