Between each Valentine’s Day and February 17th, I go through the last bits of our conversations in my head.What did I miss? Are there any words that could have made a difference? Was it me who did not listen or you who did not say?

Were we both under the false impression that we would continue this conversation soon? Were you forced to keep quiet?
Will I know one day the cause of this silence? Or should I grow older still hoping to hear your voice?I learned to cherish your words like treasures. Despite the time that passes, I force them to cling to my memory so that they can resonate in my mind like if you had spoken to me yesterday. Time does not help. It takes me away from your laughter, your intonation, your sentences, and your songs. I am desperately looking for a piece of you through the photos and the memories. I wonder why I don’t have more.The time has taken close relatives who left without being able to say goodbye to you.
The time that passes makes me say bad words that I do not mince toward those who just seem to find excuses.
The time passes, relentlessly, but there is still hope that you can be found.
I continue to say ”Après la pluie, le beau temps.”

The time that passes also made you an aunt.
You loved music so much, we are sharing your passion with her.
In due time, she will know your story.
Will you be with us to tell her?

I wait and I search for you Marilyn, beloved aunt.

With love,
Nathalie, Laurent & Laetitia xxx