ONE OF THE LAST THINGS MY GRANDFTHER TOLD MY AUNT WAS THAT HE WANTED HER TO TAKE CARE OF HIS "GIRLS". HE WAS TALKING ABOUT MY MOTHER AND ME. MANY YEARS AFTER HE DIED, I WAS TOLD ABOUT HIS MANY DOWNFALLS AND TRUIMPHS. AND I REMEMBER WHAT I WAS TOLD, AND WHAT I KNEW ABOUT THE GRANDPA WHO CALLED ME HIS "GIRL".I REMEMBER HE LOVED ME WITH ALL HIS HEART AND THAT I WAS THE APPLE OF HIS EYE. AND THEREFORE, I REMEMBER HIM FOR THE MAN HE COULDN'T BE AND THE WONDERFUL MAN THAT HE WAS.
HEH, I WONDER? THAT WHEN YOU DIE, DOES ANYONE EVER REMEMBER YOU AS A SCREW-UP? IF YOU TRULY WANT TO REMEMBER A PERSON, HOW COME NO ONE EVER SEEMS TO BOTHER TO THANK THE PERSON FOR THE MEMORIES? -DIARY ENTRY 1995
They carried flowers...
They carried flowers to the funeral,
They threw them on the casket.
Beautiful living things,
That will soon be forgotten
Among the debris
That covers the shell of a once
Living-fully breathing human spirit
Who left them crying,
In the mists of all their questions.
They carried flowers to the funeral
And cried during the memorial service,
Maybe some of them truly knew,
The one who they now remembered,
But they held their flowers tight,
Not really understanding what they held onto.
They listened to everyone,
Declare how wonderful a person,
The deceased had been.
They carried flowers
As they heard all the generic descriptions
That can be used to describe any
Living being that possessed the ability to reason.
She is gone, she must be glorified,
They simply carried flowers,
To the shrine they had created,
For a friend who erred, lived
Learned and grew,
In common terms,
Like everyone else.
But they wanted their saint,
And this they remembered
They buried their flowers
And the imprints she left on their hearts.
Age 19
"I will remember you, will you remember me?" -Sarah M. (Mirrorball)