All my life I have had loved ones walking into the night. Some said they might not come back; some said “we shall meet again when it is time”, and then I had some who said they will be back.
All my life I have lit candles in dark dreary nights and slept with hurricane lamps when there was storm. In the darkest hours of winter, I have burnt sleep to fuel memories of those who are gone.
I now dread open doors. They confuse me all the more. Of the handful few who squeezed in and stayed behind; I am very worried who might walk out and be gone!