And here, this woman on the left is my Aunt.
This is how I will prefer to remember her down the years:
happy, in the still beauty of a smile--
the forever of a photograph where she is free of pain.
The cancer that would grab with greedy hands
to take her away too soon no longer exists.
Even though you’ve given us grief,
you have not beaten us, Death.
For as long as we have memories,
we will keep them with us
like letters to ourselves of all that was wonderful,
the paper softening over the years with
the touch of many fond fingers opening and reopening.
In my mind, I have already put down one such keepsake memory:
the beautiful infectious hiccup of a laugh
that made me want to laugh along.
And so, Aunt Debbie, I choose to remember you,
not in your ending but in all the precious befores.

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