Beginnings of March

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Time has passed by so fast and many moments I can’t recall. I wish I could just pull the files in my mind and remember what I constantly question…..

Did I hug you enough?
Did I really listen enough?
Did you feel enough love?
Did you know you were my world?
Did you know I pushed away the knowledge that someday things would change.

Was I enough?

am I enough?


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I heard his story line by line I was terrified, proud, astonished, I was amazed that such a man is my father.
Sad that he has lived with all those terrifying memories all his life. What a strong, brave man he is. I said nothing, I was mute just listening to him tell his tales of hunger and pain and suffering and survival most of all and above all survival.
Most of his friends that went through this ordeal with him have died. My father is left with their tales, for they still live within him. His story’s tell their story as well as their struggle. My father a man I never quite understood as a child and now I look up to him as my hero. I wish he would not have gone through what he did. But there’s no turning back the clock.


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I like the way words at first are just words then they take on a different life they are like a slickly dark fluid running through me, taking flight through my veins causing physical reactions eventually encasing my heart bringing Joy, sadness,……words are life they bring me sanity without them I’m just a blank page, a beat less heart.


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