Dear both of you,
On Catherine’s umpteenth birthday, a
reflection about memories.
Back then, until recently.
Memories, good ones and others,
felt like something you had to hold on to,
as if letting go would erase something of yourself.
You cherished them, replaying them
repeatedly.
They protected you from fading.
They were proof that something beautiful or
deeply sad had happened,
that you had once been (un)happy in a considerable
way.
Now, recently,
those same memories, feel redundant,
not because they've lost their value, but
because they've done their job.
They've shaped you, softened you, hardened you,
taught you what love, warmth, and
connection means,
but also made you wiser about the
transience of friendships,
the finitude of relationships,
and fleeting emotions.
You no longer need to constantly relive
them to know they existed.
They live on in who you are.
You let them rest, but you don't forget
them.
It means trusting that what was good and
what wasn't,
has become part of you, and you don't have
to keep opening old doors to confirm that.
The memories can be and stay where they
belong –
soft, hard, complete, resigned, organized,
and stored away for eternity.
Yours always,
Guy.
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