Not Always Forgotten

A follow-up to "A Memory of the Forgotten".

The incomparable difference between something in the sunlight, and that same something clouded in gloom, is stunning. The light of truth allows not for secrecy and sorrow, but only clear vision and reality. In the sunlight, all that is kept furtive is revealed and all that is shrouded in mystery is unfolded. Young flowers are proof that life is still prominent and serve as a beacon for those stripped of vitality; it is unneeded, but still comforting. Freshly cut grass serves as a reminder that there are still those who care. Warmth seeps through everything and energizes our small world.

The sunlight is rejuvenating, but weeds in a thriving garden exist as reminders that some lives are too busy to tend to the fallen. Although the sound of the breeze and distant chirping of birds provides surreal isolation from a stressful existence, the sounds of sirens solidify real life as a constant hum in the near distance.  I suddenly remember that the world maintains its motion, though some will not. Those that were here before me will remain here.  The world surely does keep turning.

I sit in a familiar seat across from a vacant bench, which somehow, doesn't feel so empty. I am alone here, even though I am surrounded by others. However, it is only I that will walk home today. I am the only one who looks around with the power to see; the rest are perpetually blinded. Only I can see the flowers. Are they actually for me and anyone alike? Those whom they are meant for will never witness their colors and the light that they bring. Bright, blooming buds by some graves or weeping, wilted, disappointments by others. Lonely stones stand enviously in their solitude. It is obvious who remembers; but who am I to judge? Just because one did not take the time out of their busy life to place meaningless flowers or lifeless decorations next to a soulless stone, does not mean that one did not take the time to remember throughout the day. This does not mean that they do not spend a sleepless night laying awake, remembering…every night.

Still, the fresh green grass, the caressing presence of the sun, and the radiance of new blooms to grow are pleasant reassurances that there will always be those who remember. The words may fade from the stone, but the stone will ever remain.