If I could ask God a question it would be this..
Why do people have to die?
Why is it that when we have made it.
When we fall in love,
Or we win.
Those moments never last forever.
When they kissed us for the first time.
Or that intimate moment that should have lasted forever.
Memories. They keep us together.
They hold us. They build us. Remind us of the places we have
been.
The people we’ve meet.
The pain, the joy. The up and the down.
Our thoughts shad a light to our life’s choices.
Who you wish to become and where you go.
Good or bad, they are important.
But what if your memories become too much?
When all you want to do is forget.
Not just the bad; But the good, the memories, the moments,
the past.
To forget it all.
They say that the end of one thing marks the beginning of a
new one.
Like when you’re done
with a chapter in a book and you move on to the next one.
But they never really say what happens to the people left in
previous chapter now do they.
Ever sat down and thought about a moment you could take
back.
Maybe to say that you were sorry? Pay a debt that had long
kept? Keep a promise you once made?
Unbreak a heart? Or even just to ask a question. Like why?
Or simply when?
Why did they have to leave? When would we ever see them
again?
It takes a lot for people to walk away from us. Leave alone
to die.
In my mind I play a picture of a mother sleeping on her
death bed,
About to die, knowing well that her children have no one to
turn to.
Or a woman who waited for so long to find someone who truly
loved her for who she rather than how she looked. Only for him to be taken
away.
Love. That’s what reminds us. That’s what keeps us attached
to them.
Even in their absence we feel there presence.
We are reminded of the face, their smell, their likes and
dislikes.
They inspire us through their memories.
Their lives guide us to our unseen future.
That one day, when we also meet the same fate, our lives
will guide those we leave behind. Those who will be reminded of who we were by
their memories.
That we get to see that, it’s not a curse. But actually a
blessing.
These memories of ours. Both good and bad.
Live better. You don’t know who will remember you.