It was the first time I truly realized the imminent and harsh reality of death. For the first time, I suddenly discovered that those seemingly indestructible and taken-for-granted presences would eventually fade away.
During that period, my life was accompanied by various upheavals: graduation, failing the postgraduate entrance exam, family issues, and a breakup. These changes dulled the impact of my turtle's passing. However, deep within, the pain of loss remained ever-present.
I was very close to my grandparents and would spend long stretches of my summer holidays with them, creating countless fond memories involving the turtle. Regrettably, I don’t have a single photo of the turtle. Perhaps the turtle's presence was too ordinary, too ingrained in our daily life, that it never occurred to me to take a picture. Its existence was so natural, as if it would always be there.
Sometimes, I would recall my grandfather's vivid performance of how he would escape from the turtle's bite, a routine that always made me laugh heartily. As the years went by, my grandfather aged and his walking slowed, reminiscent of the turtle's pace. Later, he grew more silent, often sitting by the turtle’s tank, staring at it in silence for long periods.
The turtle's departure left a lingering, continuous pain. Just like after my grandfather passed away, at some unexpected moment, encountering a similar scene, seeing a related object, or simply during an ordinary afternoon when memories surged, my heart would be struck heavily.
These losses have taught me to cherish every existence in life. Those things that seem eternal can suddenly disappear. Perhaps what we can do is to appreciate and record them while they are still with us, savoring every moment we share with them. In this way, when they are no longer around, we can still feel the warmth of their presence through our memories.
