26 March 2011

20 years

In the wink of an eye,
it is 20 years.

All dried up now,
the heartfelt tears.

Calmed and forgotten,
those awful fears.

I am grateful to a
God who hears.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Death is the only adventure 
that no one can talk about.

Wherever you are, Doug, I hope 
that you are proud of me.

11 comments:

KS Cheah said...

Hi Lita,

Wherever he is, I am sure Doug is at peace and with Eric. Aye, he would be proud of you and Jared too as kindred souls would. May you continue to be showered with more love than you so obviously give.

KS

STEEST said...

Hi Cheah,

You always say the right things but I know the reasons why you do.

Thanks for being such an understanding friend.

Lita

Small Kucing said...

20 years is a long time. Gone but will never be forgotten.

Btw, thanks for dropping by my blog earlier. Yes I have Land of Far Beyond and have posted it at http://mamakucingmeow.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-pride-and-joy-enid-blyton-collection.html

STEEST said...

Small Kucing

Thanks for coming by. I checked the post you highlighted but it didn't show "The Land of Far Beyond".

When I found it, I bought 3 books and have given it as gifts already. I regret not keeping one for myself.

:D

Pat said...

No ifs or buts about it, Lita: He's mighty proud of you!

*hugs*

STEEST said...

Pat,

Thanks for that. Love you for your kind heart.

I think I'm done with all these milestones now.

I'm just going to move on and not let these dates haunt me anymore.

:D

Jared said...

=] I'm sure he is.

STEEST said...

Jared

Thanks. Love you always.

Nai!

masterwordsmith said...

I remember, we remember...how could we forget? The pain is gone but beautiful memories will always be there.

And I know he loves you and is very proud of you too.

Shalom

KS Cheah said...

Hi Lita,

Here's something from a relatively new blogger. A young nephew of a writer friend of mine.

Memories are like ghosts.

They walk where you did, everywhere that you’ve left a little part of yourself behind you. Breadcrumbs. A trail that can’t be followed. And when you return to those places, they peek around the veil and watch you pass, afraid of what they’re going to become. The weight of them fills you up with sheer longing.

And then you keep walking, and they fade. Melting back from reality as your shadow recedes. They must sink down through cracks in the pavement, slide through ageing walls, burn up in the sunlight.

Gone, but not forgotten.

*******************************
Do check out his blog:
http://quintconsequential.wordpress.com/

STEEST said...

MWS, Thanks for that. Very kind of you. :D