They do not seem to remember what I remembered. It was discouraging, or you can say I was sad. But it made me happy too, because I started to realize that I DO REMEMBER. Those are not gone in me.
The past is all mine, my life is so rich with it. No one really forgets and nothing is forgotten. I live my life with it so I live in the moment, truly. As if there's nothing bothering me, that the world is not in such a hurry to live on and on, that I have confidence for myself, to live it out so that when I left for another world, peeps will remember me in my funeral, as a happy woman who did what she wanted to. And if the memory accumulates, and I so wanted to share it, recall it with these friends as I did, I wouldn't be regretting my life, what wrong did I do or stuff like that. I know it's all a process, that I loved my life.
People move on, or they are in a different mood to remember together with you. You know, you experienced it together and be happy and be sad at the moment, but you can't share the memory, at the same moment, two and a half years later.
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