David Collantes

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Everyone is gone

I am the youngest of my siblings. Having been born when my parents were in their late forties has a few meanings. It means my parents are gone. It also means all my aunts and uncles, all the people around my parents age in my native neighbourhood, they are all gone.

Today I spent some time remembering them. In my memories I searched house by house in my neighbourhood (or my block, rather), remembering—and often trying to remember—their names, and their faces. It is horrible how memory fades away, and becomes a blur.

I believe people truly die when they are no longer remembered. Some of my childhood neighbours died today. Again, this time for good. It’s sad.