Replaced Memories

The clouds lay low on the city today. Their reach covering mountain peaks hundreds of feet climbing into the sky. No tears escape their misty home joining, falling to earth.

My ex-husband occupies my thoughts for brief intense seconds. A memory comes to light then turns a shade of grey. Many years we lived and studied together; almost a third of my life was spent with this man. My love for him is not spoken out loud but remains in memory. It is not possible for humans to turn love off or on. The feeling is always there… it fades over the years lessening in intensity because it is a memory and not part of our daily lives. That same holds true for the love of my grandfather (Papa) who passed away 20 years ago. Both these people I interacted with for an extended amount of time; years long. One is still physically living and the other has passed way but they both still live in my memory.

Love can however switch to another emotion instantly for some people I strongly believe. It is white one moment and black the next. When you receive news that a loved one is ill or has died your love for them instantly changes. You still love them, however the emotion of love could be infected with grief or anger and manifest itself physically through tears or rage. It is also possible for the memory of a such an event to physically cause a change in your mood and stature.

When I first began to sober up, summer was giving way to autumn in 2005. I watched the sky as it evolved to shed winter rains. I have been watching now as spring blossoms into summer. Seasons are long here in Vancouver. I believe there to be only three, that of summer, spring and fall. Winter is but two weeks, if that. There is no sudden shift of growing, dying, and resting here. Vancouver is grey, continually growing green and restructuring itself to it’s eventual climax.

What will be it’s memory? Who will remember. What will be remembered and how?

I miss my grandfather. A man, the other day roused a dormant but non-existant awareness of my grandfather. It was not an actual memory persay of him that was remembered – It was that of a likeness to him, as to how Papa and I could possibly interact with eachother, today, if he were alive. I found myself happy to be comunicating with this man of age about art, life and Vancouver. Is it true that we as human beings seek unkowingly the companionship of those who no longer exist physically in our lives? I believe so.

The same holds true for Vancouver. I moved from Saint John in February 2003 to the West coast. I replaced the rolling Apalacian hills of the East for the grand rockie mountains of the West. I live on the East Side with a view looking North West. I am 10 minutes from the city centre. There is an ocean. There are the sounds of industry down by the bay. What is different is that while the west is grand in it organic stature it’s weather mumbles along burping every so often never getting to hot nor too cold. Ah – I recall the excitement of intense lightning storms and bliizards blanketing the city with snow. I remember the extended summer season as it mozied into late Septemeber only to be quashed by tropical storms moving up the Atlantic revealing vibrant fall colour. Living in Saint John though, I craved diversity in culture and ideals.

Where ever we are, we will always seek that which is not always apparent immediately in our minds. Until the end of time our memory will persist with love grey, waiting dormant until ignited inside.

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