"Where's the promised happiness?" That's the translation of my title. I pity myself for unable to move on even after almost one year. Last year, grandpa had blood transfusion. It took the hospital so long until they finally start the procedure. I clearly remember grandpa was admitted on Saturday night and they took lotsa blood and examine here and there. The next morning, results came out and stated that grandpa needed blood badly. I went to the hospital in the afternoon and still greeted by his smile and very special way of calling me. My grandpa had been hospitalised numerous times before but last time he disliked the infusion so bad that he kept wanting to plug them off. I even bought the soothing gel which my ex student used to have because he said that his hands are so painful and itchy sometimes. Yesterday the whole family did the yearly prayer for grandpa and i was trying to be okay without thinking or regretting that i should be there. All i could ...