A man remembers and realizes that as time goes by, some memories get sweeter

I Remember… the memories

Why do you not choose to remember
those beautiful memories?

Why not?

Most people rush through
past moments,
trying hard to forget them.

I choose not.
Yes, life is short
like a breath.

But some beautiful memories
are riches untold,
in stories blessed
and bold.

Remember…
Mom,
gentle and sweet.
Dad,
humble and kind.
Mom’s cooking, a daily joy.
Dad’s admonitions,
a proclamation of wisdom.
Board games with siblings,
a thrill.

Home.
A haven of love.
My room… I remember it so vividly.
A bunk bed.
Shared with siblings.
The floor, tidy and neat.

… waxing the floors
was a pleasure we relished
as we skid past one another.

Our daily rituals…
morning breakfast, so full of glee.
A prayer recited,
reminded us:
“You are not alone.”

Pet dogs, Nicky and Sita,
around to play and run
together with.

Grandpa, living with us,
an encyclopedia of knowledge
to tap into… a daily joy.

At bedtime,
a prayer repeated
before eyes close,
“Yea, though I may walk through
the valley of the shadow…
I will not be afraid,
for thou art with me.”

A life,
simple and sweet.
No misery.
Happy.
Calm.

Remember…
the Saturdays…
picnics in the park.
Birthdays to celebrate.
Ah! What joy!

Sunday mornings.
Church.
Omelettes at home.
Not a dull moment.

Remember…
the first love and date.
She loved me,
our love so tender.
At a Delight Cinema,
popcorn aroma inviting.
A walk in the park,
a memory
untouched by time.

Remember…
leaving home,
with wings grown
ready to fly
and anxious to leave.
Free at last.

Yet, I returned every weekend
through the years… to see
aging parents.
I saw Dad’s thinning hair.
I saw Mom’s slowed gait.
I loved them more.
More each day.
I valued them.
More each day.

Grandpa left a hole no one can fill.
I missed him badly.
And to a grandmother I never remember seeing,
I loved her
through the stories
I was told about her.

The memories of yesterday
are still fresh
and I replay them
with my siblings.
And we laugh, cry, and chat for hours.

One by one,
they leave.
Dad first.
A brother. Then another.
Some memories are hard to hold
yet we still get together
and relive them.

And as time goes by,
the memories get sweeter.

The generations that follow sit to hear,
transfixed.

In the end,
all we truly keep are the moments
that shaped us…
the love that held us…
and the memories that refuse to fade.

I remember.
And I always will.

~ ~ ~

Author Bio
Dr. Ivan Edwards is a man who is comfortable wearing a few hats in life. A polymath, he is an ordained non-denominational minister, a medical doctor, a USAF flight surgeon (at the rank of Colonel), an entrepreneur and CEO, and a writer-poet.

His work explores healing, restoration, resilience, identity, and the strength of the human spirit shaped by faith.