Birthdays and Remembrance

They are never gone as long as you never stop remembering.

Is death really the end? The place of no return?

Perhaps. Or maybe, there’s something worse than death. For instance, the end of remembrance. Perhaps forgetting someone is more painful than death.  

I have often wondered how different people are afforded contrasting times in this world. We grow up immune to the notion of death until she hits us right where it hurts the most. We expect some special people in our lives to hold our hands forever, through the darkness and the light.

But isn’t forever an illusion, a vague, misleading concept created by man? Because sometimes people are forced to abandon you in the middle of the road when you expect them to stay. Sometimes their journey ends abruptly when you were hoping to cross the bridge together.

And you are left behind, at the edge of the river, all on your own.

On this day, decades ago, my cousin sister was born. I remember her kindness and warmth. I remember meals shared over dining tables years ago, and the music we'd listen to together. Sitting wide-eyed, listening to her speak. She was the shepherd and I the sheep, following her around all day. My tiny world was a magical place thanks to her art, her songs, her encouraging words.

She was the sparkling moon of our star-studded sky, the brightest flower of the garden. Gentle like the winter’s sun on a December dawn.

And she was taken away too soon, leaving us clinging on to the memories.

Perhaps it is imprudent to indulge in the years gone by on a loop for days, months, years. Because memories, like life, have their share of the good and the bad. Some make us happy and lift our mood. Others tend to feed the void in the heart that has refused to cease through the years.

It is this paradox of remembrance that has me broken. Me and perhaps millions of me. 

And yet we soldier on, even though sometimes this life we lead appears insignificant when compared to what could have been. As the years go by and our hairs turn grey and our skin wrinkles and our teeth begin to rot, these people stay the same, untouched by the tides of time. They smile at us through yellow pictures clinging to the walls.

We celebrate birthdays and they stay immune to the burdens of age.

So why do we keep thinking of them? Why remember them when those memories hurt more than they heal? Why do we hold on to our dear ones in our hearts, never willing to let go?

Perhaps because Death isn’t the end. Because the ones you love, live within you when you continue to make them a part of your lives. When you remember them in your joys, your bright days. When you realize that the pains wouldn't hurt so much had they been around to hold your hand. When you think of them when you have news to share or something you have no one to share with.

Happy Birthday, Tuttu. I shall never forget you. Never, ever.