I hate memories.............

I hate memories…
I don’t know why…
even if these are good one still I try to escape from them.
I hate missing my dad… I know that would hurt him… I know that day even he wouldn’t have realized that this is the last time I am seeing my son, holding his hand and vice versa. The toughest thing to believe is when a person walks to a car… to a hospital but returns on a stretcher carried by men… lifeless… dead. How could one expect that reality… but time is the biggest healer and I am waiting for the time when I won’t run away from the memories anymore… or perhaps I am waiting for the time when I’ll join my dad.