All we have Left are the memories
To relive those days.
Good memories are quite subtle, like the mid-summer breeze blowing upon your heated body. Quietly bringing a sense of relief when it leaves you, how fortunate it was that you were a part of someone else’s life. A scent, someone’s laughter, a store, an ice cream flavor, or a wallet, and the memories come flooding your senses. Your breadth catches in your throat and tears well up in your eyes.
People come and people go, either by choice, circumstance, or death and all we have left of them are the memories we will carry around every day for the rest of our lives.
If you live long enough to see the people who you love transcend into the metaphysical, you'll know that grief is not something you get over with time. No, you wear grief everyday like new earrings. At first, you're aware of it, you've got a different earring on but with time you barely feel it's weight upon your earlobes.
The only time you remember it is when you touch your ears to realise that it's still there, you just carried it throughout the day. That's memory, the trigger that makes you remember that you've still got earrings on. In this instance, your memory reminds you that you still grieve.
Grieving isn't always about the people we've lost to death, it may also be about the people we let go of, or those who let us go. The ones who we thought were going to be by our sides forever. The ones who we shared everything with, our fears, regrets, wins, losses and secrets. Somehow, that hurts with the same intensity as having lost the person to death, because you know you're grieving for someone who's still living.
Everything reminds you of the beautiful moments that passed between you two. The seat in the park where you both laughed at a stranger who tripped. Adding three spoons of sugar to your coffee, or even seeing the same breed of dog that they had. If only you could freeze time and relive those days for a hundred years. Whenever the universe chooses to go against you and Google photos resurface old pictures, you stare at it and wish you could give anything to be back in that moment where the world around you seemed perfect.
Recently, I was walking back home after work, weary from the afternoon heat. I can't remember what I was thinking about, or if I was thinking at all. Sometimes, I just walk on without being aware of my thoughts. Then, someone passed by me and the person had the scent of my grandmother's house. Immediately, memories of a younger me walking gleefully around my grandma's house flooded my memory. Thankfully, it didn't trigger tears.
The memories meet me anywhere and I give it the permission to remind me of the beauty of love. Once, I was cleaning my dad's room after his demise and I couldn't help but squat down by the door and shed a bit of tears. What we would give to have those beautiful days back, but for now, all we have are the memories.
Day 30/30
Till next time,
Love and light.
