I Remember: 10
I Remember that summer like it was yesterday. I discovered the ins and outs of the most mysterious man I had ever known and I loved him as a part of me. Our time was so short together and when I watched my father getting rushed to the hospital, fear lodged in my throat that I would never know the answers to the questions I didn't know to ask. I held his hand and kissed his cold forehead wishing that I could somehow love him back to life; that any second, he would wake up and dry my tears and take me into his arms like he did so many times before. But he didn't. And I stood with my brothers and sister and watched as he was lowered into ground...
I recall his laughter. It seemed to carry for miles because I could still hear it ring throughout the empty halls. My mother tells me I have his laugh. She says it's a reminder to stay happy because when I laugh I can feel him living through me and I am reminded of his love.
I remember his scent. I've associated it with joy and warmth.
His honest eyes, hints of which are painted in mine.
Most of all, and most importantly, I remember the purity of his heart. He loved and lived courageously. He battled and broke he cried and sang out. He danced. He gave everything. All of himself. He was everything I wanted to be. He was strong and kind; gentle and powerful; ebullient and pensive; a paradox; a father; a love; a song.
He was a song