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Your memory was failing, but I could still see that proud soul in your eyes. For a brief moment your cold hands felt warm. Was it your way of saying goodbye? This would be the last time I could see your marvelous toothless smile, and you were continuing to ask about grandpa - Why aren't the dead-ones allowed to have a phone number? Tears are streaming down inside, want to feel them along my cheeks. I want to scream but the emptiness that's were you should be possess no melody. Everything that is left when I get back home is memories and a handloom. Why did you go when I was gone? - � Sara Johnson 12 December, 2004. Macau SAR China |