It was her voice that was heard each morning. Now the sound of cars echoes through the streets and as I open my eyes I realize - nothing’s going to be the same way again. When she buried her daughter yesterday, she buried her joy as well. It was quite a sad funeral, though I cannot recall a happy one, especially when it is a young girl that is being taken in the cold, dark land of eternity. The piles of work waiting for me were the only reason I got up. It interrupted my mourning, but I had a library to attend. I got dressed and decided to take another way to my office, due to the impossibility to see the poor woman whose eyes stared blankly at the sky. I am sure she did not sleep yesterday. I know I barely did. Thankful for the papers and documents that kept my mind off of yesterday’s happening, I came back home, changed outfit and finished the book I was reading. Before going to bed I closed the window and set the alarm-something I haven’t done for a long time, since it was the happy lady’s voice waking me each morning. That isn’t happening now. Good thing was that soon I would change environment and move to another town. I never knew her death would influence me as much as it did. She was an often visitor at the library. We shared the love for books. Once she confessed I was her only friend. Honestly, she was mine as well. Now I have to run away from the memories we shared. They weaken me. Year passed and I had much desired coming back home, though I feared that it will not be enough. Surprisingly when I returned I heard our neighborhood was renewed and the lady had recently given birth to a son something she always wanted. I visited the grave of my friend that was now beautifully decorated with flowers and trees. Sitting on the bench I read the book she preferred and reconciled with her death, finally accepting that she is gone forever. Before going to bed I set the alarm -just in case. It woke me up at nine. The following years I was awaken by child’s laughter, but never by her song. She was still mourning…

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Though a sad story, it is one that makes me recognize the value of life and how much one can impact you. Thanks for this entry, it made me realize that memories always live even when the maker of those memories fades away.

I love how the stories all interconnect, weave together. Waking to the sound of one woman. Sharing a love of books with her daughter. Sitting at her grave, reading the book your friend loved, waking to different sounds, to recognize the world is never the same when someone is gone. Thank you for sharing, for allowing me to be a part of the story for a moment.