I don’t know how memory works…where it ends…or where it starts…
but today I found it guided me to the cemetery of my heart.
It’s a solemn, meditative place that in the heart has no parallel.
The final resting place where our memories go to dwell.
Every person in the world…anyone who’s ever taken a breath
Even if they haven’t yet…will one day have to cope with death.
I’ve lost people I love…my parents…family…friends
It’s an inevitable fact of living that…some day…life will end.
When touched by death…memories rush in and the ensuing sorrow can paralyze
then slowly…ever-so-slowly…out of our sadness we start to realize
that the one we lost would not want us to remain sad forevermore…
and we do our best, in their memory, to live…as we once lived before.
It’s as if when death infects us…in an instant…overnight…
the world that once was filled with joy…turns to a gloomy black and white.
Then slowly…if we’re lucky…the healing process begins…
and with the help of our family and friends our smile…and our colors slip back in.
To ensure our memories do not fade away…even though we will forever be apart
we find a quiet place for them to rest…in the cemetery of our heart.
Which is where if found myself this morning…at the dawning of the day…
planting flowers on the graves…and remembering…those I’ve lost along the way.
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