They come because he was one of their own, a friend from decades ago they hadn’t seen for many years, a comrade from the War. Some wheel in with walkers, some with knees too stiff to bend and kneel they stand and look down at him in the casket. Still and quiet, expressionless and yet expression in their every slow step taken as they turn to try and recognize the children they remembered in the grownups in the room.
It seems like only yesterday, they think, and tomorrow’s coming soon.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
Odd, but so very real, still and special. The aire is so thick and much too sweet… but we taste. After, the smell of then, IT lingers…and encircles like a halo. and IT hurts. Memories start and will remain; gratefully lifted into calmer space. {I understand, I know where you are, kinda.} I think it all gets better, because, in it all, we are preparing us, for Then. {Dang, I never thought I would be there, now.} ~love and Hugs!~