To My Dear Friend Preaty Merchant. Rip Poem by John Young

Always in our hearts.

A preaty beautiful young lady taken too soon.

50 days young, you had started to bloom.

We miss your infectious laugh your kindness your wonderful food.
Our exquisite days away in millport, we painted our stone, ice cream and sunshine, life just seemed so good.

The day we cooked our food you chopped, you being the boss ofcourse, my wonderful scones and I was told to keep my apron on.

The day stood still as we watched the Eagles glide gracefully over loch lomond, walking slowly steady to sit at falloch falls, you thinking you maybe a burden as you gazed into the free flowing falls; never a burden Always a friend.

You slept all the way home lightly snoring, happy and content.

You lay there gaunt and fading ebbing slowly away, your gorgeous hair was all but gone, a shell now morphine had taken over and kept the pain at bay.
The hospital bed the carer's, bev holding your hand she Always knew what to say.
You took your last breath and I crumpled inside; stillness and flying high, no pain now stillness.
Birth death buried in the blink of an eye; shovelling the earth on your lowered coffin I Start to cry.
You are now gone from here for good, no hugs, no smiles no more of your wonderful Indian food.

Preaty Merchant, gone but not forgotten.

X

Fly high.
@jy.