Today walking around the village in costume, I began to cry several times. I see traces of my dear aunt everywhere. So on the way home I wrote this. It WAS really good, but my stupid phone deleted it. So this is as much as I can remember from it.
Traces of a life of one not long gone,
Traces of a beauty, amidst the heavy throng.
Traces of the love, of a woman so kind
Traces of all the people and things she left behind.
Can you see her in the gardens? Tending to her plants?
Or maybe catch a glimpse of her gorgeous hair, reflected in the auburn leaves of fall.
See the lady with the corded hat?
Just like the one she used to wear?
You have to take a second glace, but no.
Its just a trace of a life that touched all.
Loving until the end, she watched out for everyone.
Kind, patient, glowing, there are no words to describe her love.
Few could tell how bad the cancer was, that tainted her life
Did you know how constant the pain or how heavy the strife?
Through it all she remained grace filled and no one will forget
How she touched every single person she ever met.
We will always see traces of that wonderful life.
Both the beauty and the pain of her to short life.
Its hard not to cry when we walk the paths she walked
And the world is not as bright without her unselfish thoughts.
I will always see traces of that dear, beautiful woman.
And hear the echo of laugh.
I already miss her tender hugs and loving smile.
Can I go back for a minute or an hour?
Before the fall wilted that beautiful delicate flower?
Oh my dear aunt I do miss you so.
Who would have ever thought I would have to see you go?