when something dies / we remember who we love,

I am not much for Decembers.

Rest well, Aunty Maribel.

Love you always, Phil.

Onward to January.

Attribution

I did not mean to write about death, but rather how when something dies we remember who we love, and we die a little too, we who are still breathing, we who still have the energy to survive.

—from He said I wrote about death, by Kim Dower