There is death, is present and happening in nearly every aspect of life. When memories once so fresh and vivid, wilt with the harsh reality of growing up, they too die. They fade, and fade, and fade, until some day, all that remains are the vague impressions of the occurences that once took place.

I remembered so much before, about Marion, about the 5 years with a certain girl, about growing up happy in a complete family, about relatives that felt more like home than they do now, about friends who swore to stand by you until time ceases to tick, etc.

The list does go on. Deaths. They happen all the time, both suddenly and gradually. But the most sorrowfully bitter of all deaths, are the ones that fade away into a realisation someday, that you once remembered everything and now live in empty shells of labels. We label memories, so that we never forget. But truth be told, we all forget. And beginning the noticing of forgetting, seems to hurt longer when it dies out.

I hope I never forget, how friendship was with Marion, how family felt like on Sunday mornings at the dining cafes, how kinship felt like during Saturdays at Grandma's, how Christmas felt like at Aunt Mary's, how closeness felt like when you first told me you love me. I hope I never forget what it is like to feel. I hope I never forget to feel, at every pulse of joy and sadness that illustrates into the person that becomes me as an adult. I hope, that no matter how life jades me, I still remember to feel, because the ability to feel gives me the faith that there is still humanity in me, that my conscience still breeds a better part of me.

With that, I pray that the uphills may get me going, and that the tough get me going stronger.