If my light starts to flicker, don’t make me stay.
If my heart can’t keep beating, then let it away.
A subtle smell or sound and my sorrow consumes me.
Memories flood of life changed, a soul now set free.
I am tired and lonely and my mind deceives me;
What I want is not, and what is not can’t be.
So I grieve, while I hope, for simple mercy my way;
And I rest, but not sleep, to pass yet one more day.
Kevin used to call me “my love.” After work he’d say, “Come out on the deck and have a cup of tea with me, my love.” Precious words made more precious with time. I wrote the lines above a couple of weeks after he died, at a time when I didn’t care if I ever woke up. I found them today as I looked through my journal. Perhaps words can transcend time, they certainly can withstand it. In a sense they can deliver immortality, a comforting thought for me anyway.
Tomorrow is two months since Kevin died; a measure in time of something that can’t be measured. Try to put a value on a person’s life, then try to imagine how precious the memories are that you have created with that person. This is my dilemma, I’ve lost the flesh and blood; all that is left is intangible. Thoughts and memories are things that are but are not at the same time.
These are the types of things I worry about. What if I start to forget? I don’t ever want to forget.