I wrote this when thinking of my uncle Hilly Mamu who died on 29 11 1989. His birthday wa on 14 4.
The feeling, when you think of someone who is dead, is unlike any other. Not the unbearable ache of love for a man, or the yearning to go home. It's just a sad ache, a little twinge and then a helpless acceptance. Words you can never say, problems you can never share, achievements you can never show, voices you can never hear ... laughter.
Perhaps somewhere he is watching. Perhaps he is just behind me, looking over my shoulder. Perhaps he lies there in dark emptiness, and the only time a little light visits him is when we think of him or speak of him .. and God lifts up that heavy veil and lets him listen.