Anginie Moreno

The Keeper of Memories

The Keeper of Memories My grandmother’s death happened so secretively; nobody knew how she died and nobody ever would. I mean it’s what was expected because that’s how she lived her life. She kept secrets that would’ve changed the pattern of her destiny, but misery loves company. The truth sets you free if that’s your perception. Family secrets break families, and she made sure ours was severed. There were always constant battles of knowing the truth, and who got what inheritance. Family members were waiting for her to drop like the ball in NYC on New Years. That made her sour. She was the type of tart taste that burned your tongue and made tears come out of your eyes. How could someone of such intellect, intelligence, and knowledge of astral travel be a paradox of perception? A very somber sight to see how the illusion of money’s power overcame the power of love. It makes you question if there was ever any love at all to conquer the love of power. I killed her with kindness, and understood the different personalities she had to have for the various situations life threw at her. The love I had for her was unconditional and that meant I loved her negative equally to her positive.