Sweet Broken Memories

This stone nests at the center of a memory glade. It’s as tall as a desk. People, whose departed have no grave because of cremation, sit on the bench in front of it and think of lives once lived.

What do their memories give them? Do they see a smile? A vision once shared? Hear a laugh? Do they see joy radiating from grandpa as he walked with his granddaughter supporting herself by holding his finger? Do they see grandma sandwiched between her grandchildren as she reads them a story?

Memories. There are so few saved from so many years, the few that sweeten our lives.

“My biological memory is enormous, but it keeps crashing.”
Dartwill Aquila