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They left it too late — 11 Comments

  1. What a lovely, heartwrenching story, Keith. Beautifully told, too. I remember the shock of realizing, some eight to ten months after my father died (I was 19), that I couldn’t conjure up his face in my memory anymore, not without the aid of a photograph. It was huge, the shock; how was it possible that I could *forget*? This person, this presence? I’d never known life without him. How could my memory do this to me? And what kind of fickle, treacherous person was I to allow it?

    Excellent response to the prompt. Thanks for sharing 🙂
    Guilie @ Quiet Laughter

  2. What a moving story, Keith! Well written and poignant. You expertly kept it away from over sentimentalism – and thus it rang true and was that much more affecting. Big thumbs up!

    • Thank you, Kate. I wasn’t expecting that response from Alf. I was more concerned with my characterisation of Belinda and still considering that, when he came out with that bombshell.

  3. Lovely story. It is so sad when we forget what a person looked like, and that sometimes happens when they passed away a long time ago, but we can still feel how much we love them and miss them, that’s more important than the exact colour of their eyes.

    • Thank you, Luccia. I tend to agree with you, but I try to imagine how someone like Alf must feel, knowing that he still loves and misses Lil, but suddenly can no longer conjure up her face.

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