MEMORIES

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I don’t like the concept of death.

The way that some one can exist for years…so much so that you know their touch, their smell, their smile…

You become familiar either very presence, in when they aren’t with you, you can pick up a phone, and they are….

And then one day, they aren’t….

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Every thing about who they are becomes a memory…

Those hands you know so well no longer, exists….they disappear, and all you have left are echoes..

Almost like a dream, it’s as if they were never there.

I miss my grandmother at the most random times, in the oddest moments….

I swear, she was just right here…. 󾍂