She is fading
Yesterdays hang in the air
Threatening to take her
She grows fainter
Back then she seemed so clear
But distance spreads out
It’s nearly 3 years
And I am here clinging to shadows
Grasping memories, holding moments
Imagining our lifetimes
Now just trapped in photographs
Now just trapped in minds
She is fading, she is fading
And I am not far behind
She is fading
And I am here wondering
Why lights that shine so brightly
Have to fade, why everything fades eventually
Why I grow old, while she is 28 eternally
It’s nearly 3 years
And I am here clinging to shadows
Grasping memories, holding moments
Imagining our lifetimes
Now just trapped in photographs
Now just trapped in minds
She is fading, she is fading
And I am not far behind
Twigg 
Reblogged this on dancingwithenvelopes and commented:
She lives in you Twiggy, and she lives on in vibrant, bold and sparkling memories, imprinted upon and wrapped within the minds of her many, many friends. There isn’t a day go by when I do not think of Emma, and I only had the joy of knowing her for a short while. Yet she is woven into the fabric of my brain like a song. It makes me think- if this is the effect she has had on me, from knowing me only a couple of years, then I can’t even imagine how brightly her flame burns in the memories of others. Those who knew her longer, knew her deeper, knew her as you do, as family! My brain can’t even comprehend it. I feel almost like a tresspasser in my grief, because it is so intense, and feels so close, almost like the ‘volume’ (don’t know if that’s measurable) of grief carried and poured out, matches the level I have felt throughout life, for my own intimate family. I question my right to cling so hard like this, to memories and photographs. If I am effected, so strongly, by her imprint upon my life’s story, then how (really, how!?), do her family… Remember, and live?
She is woven into the minds a hearts of anyone and everyone I think she ever encountered. She exists for ones who lost her, as a thread with the strength or a spider’s silk, spun beautifully all over the world.
She lives in you Twiggy, and she lives on in vibrant, bold and sparkling memories, imprinted upon and wrapped within the minds of her many, many friends.
There isn’t a day go by when I do not think of Emma, and I only had the joy of knowing her for a short while. Yet she is woven into the fabric of my brain like a song. It makes me think- if this is the effect she has had on me, from knowing me only a couple of years, then I can’t even imagine how brightly her flame burns in the memories of others. Those who knew her longer, knew her deeper, knew her as you do, as family! My brain can’t even comprehend it.
I feel sometimes like a tresspasser, in my grief, because it is so intense, and feels so close, almost like the ‘volume’ (don’t know if that’s measurable) of grief carried and poured out, matches the level I have felt throughout life, for my own intimate family.
I question my right to cling so hard like this, to memories and photographs. If I am effected, so strongly, by her imprint upon my life’s story, then how (really, how!?), do her family… Remember, and live?
She is woven into the minds a hearts of anyone and everyone I think she ever encountered. She exists for ones who lost her, as a thread with the strength or a spider’s silk, spun beautifully all over the world.
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