On Delectable Grief

Perhaps I can't handle grief well. Anymore.
I switch off.

It's actually funny that I thought I was tarnishing their memory when I wrote about them.
I wasn't escaping a writer's block when I shed ink instead of tears.
This is my way of mourning.

When someone leaves us, we don't get hung up on their memory for long..
Sometimes, we move on to talk trivialities with the mourners. As a distraction at first; but slowly their name escapes conversations; their shadow, their finger prints, their scent, the echo of their giggles.
Their existence would step out the door as we laughed out loud. And weeks, months, a year, a decade later; they are completely gone.

Perhaps an old photo or an old acquaintance would remind you of them for a minute. But otherwise they are entirely gone.

Sometimes, we don't even feel ashamed about it; no matter how close they were.

Is it a bad deed to want to make their memory immortal on these pages ? or we defying the very nature of  humanness; we are meant to forget; and it was embedded in the smallest of our cells to make us strong enough to survive. The meaning of "human" in Arabic is derived from "forgetfulness"; إنسان 

Is what I'm doing considered a transgression ? wishing to rise against my forgetful nature
Wanting to keep them alive on paper
So that a complete stranger ,years from now would stumble upon these lines
Would read about them
Would know about them
Would come to love them
And remember their existence
Smile
Or shed a tear for them
Perhaps pray for them
Or pray for me

And their legacy would remain, long after i'm gone; the next generations of complete and utter strangers would still carry the torches of their existences in their hearts
For them
And for me

Is it a bad thing to want to make bon fires in honor for the ones that left us behind these embers of longing and shivering anguish ?


Wouldn't you
Do the same
For me when I'm gone ?