Remembering

Memories are a strange thing.  You think in the moment that they will remain crystal clear and sharp always.  But the mind slowly makes things fuzzy and blurry, especially when it comes to people and animals that you’ve loved and lost.  Maybe it’s a good thing.

Some memories are easy to recall, taking back to a time and place.  Others take me to a feeling. I can’t imagine not being able to recall my memories, they are a part of my very being.  They are my history, my experience and basically help to form the person I am today.

And yet there are diseases that rob you of your memories, leaving you with an empty slate.  A part of you not there any more, not like you were.  And sadly for those who love people who have lost their memory the memory that is left is of their loved one lost in some other place.  So in a way the memory loss affects two or more people even though only one has the disease.

I can’t imagine life without my memories, and a part of me lives in fear of the what if.  What if I lose my memory?  Beloved once jokingly told me that I wouldn’t know that I had lost my memory, once it was lost.  If only that were the case, if only there was some easy way of managing this, but alas that doesn’t seem to be the case.

We joke, Beloved and I, about losing our memory when we forget where we placed the phone or the keys.  We joke because these are small things, typical things people forget all the time.  Innocent moments.  But are they the hint of something more?  You see here is the rub, we could get tested, but we are afraid.  Afraid of a potential outcome, allowing fear to paralyze us and hold us in some strange dance.  A dance that maybe has us waltzing with faded memories while listening to unfamiliar music no thinking we’ve always known this tune.

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