Never forget me, because if I thought you would, I'd never leave.
Like the Sweetness of Gardenias Mother, you died 15 years ago. pain, a rapier, cut until, finally, there was just peace like the sweetness of gardenias in the crystal vase on your yellow kitchen table. so fragrant. your voice lingers in my ear reminding, scolding, guiding a pleasant mantra of tenderness, magic words that move my palms, your palms. together we are molding, helping, creating. in the mirror I see your eyes, your beautiful brown circles looking back, so radiant. "don't forget me," you whispered the day you died. I won't.
"Grace," I said, my vision swirling now because of her blood smeared across my wrists, "Can you hear me?" She nodded then stumbled to her knees. I knelt beside her; her eyes were huge and afraid and my heart was breaking. "I'll come find you, I said. "I promise I'll come find you. Don't forget me. Don't-don't lose yourself."
I have a bunch of headshots that I like to throw at people - with some backups. I give them like three copies just so they don't forget me.
Records are the only thing that remain of an athlete, the only thing that people will remember. If I want to ensure that people don't forget me, I can only stop once I've set the bar as high as possible for anyone coming after me.
If I go Before I'm old Oh, brother of mine Please don't forget me if I go Bartender, please Fill my glass for me With the wine you gave Jesus that set him free After three days in the ground.
The Lord is a good psychologist: he knows the way our minds run. Turmoil can be the Lord's way of tapping us on the shoulder and saying, 'Don't forget me.'
or simply:
