Memories

There is much to write but the fingers on the key board refuse to move and the thoughts are trapped in the mind,probably because its not willing to be recorded.But it must at some point,that is the therapy.One full year to the day,the day I quit,the day a parent died and the day life changed in many ways.It brings the family together all three daughters,each meeting together for the first time in many years.Its a somber morning,we don't talk,we ponder,each captive in their own worlds,thoughts and memories.Each a different one,each in a different time frame.We meet again at the cemetery after a year.Ten roses of different hues adorn the grave but my father wasn't a lover of flowers so much.Perhaps if convention didn't exist,we may have left a good fresh fish and a bottle of black label.Would that have been more appropriate.I am not sure.We mourn out dead.My mother breaks her silence after a year and sobs,my eldest sister takes charge as always.I stand alone not physically but very much in my thoughts.I don't want to think,I don't want to remember,some memories are too painful,best to be wiped out but the human mind will not allow that and so we relive our most painful moments,every memory of that day by the hour etched firmly in my memory and this is the only way to deal with it,to remember.