Secondhand Memories
Secondhand Memories loss stories
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nevara
nevara Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   3 months ago
Sometimes it's hard to have nothing at all.

Secondhand Memories

I was far too little to remember who you were. You were always the super hero who went on daring rescues and helped people who were in need. You were smart, funny, and loved music.

These were things I was told. They are not something I can recollect on my own.

Someone told me who you were and what you were like. Those memories are theirs. I have no ties to this person. They are a shadow of my toddlerhood.

It feels terrible to speak of such things knowing that I have no knowledge of the person you were or what you thought I would become.

I grew up. Graduated. Started a family with nary a word from you. I have loved and been loved without a guiding word or concern. You were gone long before these events could take place.

How I wish you could have been there to witness the things I have overcome: my triumphs and failures.

How I wonder what you would have told me if you had been around to see the milestones creep up and pass.

Would you have gazed at me in wonder, thankful for the child that you had created? Would you have cried at my wedding or the birth of my first child?

I know these answers not, because I do not know you.

I hear about you in passing or in comparison. The music that you enjoyed I also enjoy now. The books and topics you liked to discuss and debate, I do as well. Or so I am told.

I never got the chance to experience those things and I never will. I will gain no memories. I have no memories. The ones that I have are like hand-me-downs.

They are not mine, but someone else's. I lost so much with you not around. It leaves a hole, the only memory that I will have of you because I am constantly reminded of what I don't have: You.

Sure, I will listen to my friends speak of a parental loss, but my only thought is "at least you remember yours..."

It seems so selfish to think. Almost an envy. Maybe it is because their pain is different than mine and it would hurt regardless of the time we spent together.

I gained a kindred spirit with those that have lost a parent. I would rather prefer that I did not.

So I think about you from time to time, pondering the possibilities of what is and what could have been.

I guess my memories - while bittersweet- are of missing you and wishing I had my own memories of you too.

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