Bircendia Churchwell-Rayford, a good friend at work whose grandmother recently died at 101, died last week after a three-week battle with pancreatic cancer. Although Cendi had no children, she is fondly remembered.
Life is fickle, or so it seems.
Life is long, only in dreams.
The good, they die young.
The bad are left to carry on.
No prayer has ever closed death's door.
When death comes knocking once more.
Who will be remembered,
and who will not?
The good and bad together,
That’s all we’ve got.
Do you want to be forgotten,
after you are gone?
Or do you want to linger,
long after the finger of death,
Is placed on your chest?
labeled, like all the rest.
After thinking about it a while,
will you have the guile?
To put on your ghastly hood,
and write really, really good.
So, like Edgar Allan Poe,
when you write and early go,
There isn't but one way out of here for all of us. It's just the trail we leave after we're gone that makes all the difference in how we are remembered or...if we are remembered at all.
After a long awaited weekend visitation caused by false allegations of sexual abuse, Glen got to see his children for the first time in over two months. He promised them that they would never be apart again and then they disappeared.
She never felt safe at home as a young girl, and didn't understand why when she finally escaped she wasn't safe in the big wide world either ...effectively jumping out of the frying pan into the fire!
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Regis
Good writing Ron.
Lisa
I'm sorry about your co-worker.
That’s all we’ve got."
Poetic wisdom.
Very profound and intense. We often forget this is not an "if" but a "when". How you are remembered depends on you, I suppose.
Mary