That woodland path, where you walked Dexter each morning. Worn by your footsteps. Those daffodils, flowering from the bulbs you planted. That watercolour, painted by your hands. Until that path is overgrown, those daffodils no longer bloom, that painting has faded to nothing, how can I say you’re truly gone?
David Lowis lives in Surrey, England, and has had microfiction and short stories published in various online publications.
aw…but even when those things are gone…the essence lives forever.
Took my breath away and made me cry. And, I thank you.
A good reflection on mortality and what it means to those who are left behind.
Such poignant and comforting words to those who are walking that path.
Poignant and touching. And true.
Thanks all for taking the time to read and comment.
This is such a lovely story! And the feelings about memories of an old friend long gone are conveyed very well, you can even imagine something similar from your life. Which makes the author’s feelings relatable for you. Definitely a very good story!