I think of my grandpa who died of a heart attack when I was
in 5th grade. And my other grandpa who passed in 2009 at the age of
90.
I think of my cousin, who committed suicide at a young age.
A friend who did the same.
And I think of a young friend who was hit and killed by a car in high
school.
I think of so many people who have come into my life – left
their mark; impacted my heart, and then were gone.
Their love keeps
living inside of me.
You never really lose
someone you love. A part of them is always with you. Whether they are a
friend, or a family member.
Certain things will always jarr your memory and remind you of something
they did, something they said, how they smelled, etc.
Time somehow keeps certain memories alive. Certain feelings
vibrant.
They don’t have to be sad – they can cause a smile to form on your lips, or a giggle to spill from your throat.
That’s love.
Everyone, whom I love in this life, becomes a part of me,
somehow. In some way, a slice of them rubs off on me, and it sticks.
And I like knowing that. I like feeling that.
We may be physically far away from those special loved ones
who’ve passed on ahead of us. But inside, we will always be close.
No one can ever steal a memory.