Stones and Memories

So here it is again, October 12th. Two years ago today my wonderful, clever, funny, gentle, loving Dad passed away. How do I even begin to mark this day? How could I possibly do anything that would somehow signify the importance of him in my life. The truth is that I can't. Nothing I do will ever seem enough. And so, I will just be sad. I will let my day be filled with memories. I will laugh and I will cry. I don't know what else to do other than stand here and feel it, down to my very soul, the absence of him. He was a storyteller and a dreamer and I loved him so much.

Stones

"Touch a stone and you'll find a story,"

The storyteller said.

"The hopes and dreams of lives long past,

The chronicles of the dead."

"They leave behind a whisper

Scarce heard but to those who try.

Quiet your mind, open your heart

You'll hear them, by and by."

"Let rest your hand on the cold granite wall,

Your fingers brush the grave.

The stones stand strong, as we all fall down,

bearing Witness, history saved."

"As you drift past the stones on your journey,

Will you linger or carry on?

For only those who consider

Will hear the voice that is gone."

"Touch a stone and you'll find my story,"

The storyteller said.

"Remember my words and I will live on,

For soon I too will be dead."

by Lesley Armstrong