I tweeted earlier "I think my biggest fear is amnesia."
All joking aside (and obviously, all the replies were jokes) - forgetting is terrifying to me.
I'm reading What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarty, about a woman who wakes up from a fall and can't remember the last decade of her life. When she wakes, she feels like herself from 10 years ago, but around her, everything has changed. I've spent the first quarter of the book in fairly frantic tears, my chest tight. I don't want to forget. I NEVER want to forget what has happened to me - none of it. Good or bad. I can't imagine what it would be like to see a dear friend and not know them. To not be able to share a joke or a knowing look. In the story, the main character even forgets her children. She wakes up and is a stranger in her own life.
I feel like it hits close to home, not just because I am a visceral reader, (I have some of the worst book hangovers you can imagine.) but because someone near to me has early-onset Alzheimer's. Before our eyes, he's becoming a shell of who he was before. He's angry and frustrated that he can't remember things sometimes, and others, well, he can't remember that he can't remember. It's hard to watch. To be a part of. To wonder when we will slip away like dates and faces and signing your name and the reasons why you started things...
I wouldn't wish forgetting on anyone.
Are there painful things in my memories? Of course. Do I ruminate on them, turning them over and over and rubbing the sharp edges away? Yeah. I do that a lot. Do I want to forget them? Absolutely not. Not one of them. Not the things that you would find shocking. Not the things that would make you worry about me, ask if I was okay now. I take these "bad" things out and thumb through them like the pages of a photo album - recognizing myself in them, the feelings from them coated in nostalgia.
They're who I was.
I wouldn't be who I am without them.
I am sappy and sentimental, but I also recognize that my life is built of all of the memories and events before today, not just the ones that make funny stories and beautiful photographs. Some of the bricks in my foundation are rotten and ugly, but I'd never risk everything crumbling around me to remove them.
I can't - won't - forget.
All joking aside (and obviously, all the replies were jokes) - forgetting is terrifying to me.
I'm reading What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarty, about a woman who wakes up from a fall and can't remember the last decade of her life. When she wakes, she feels like herself from 10 years ago, but around her, everything has changed. I've spent the first quarter of the book in fairly frantic tears, my chest tight. I don't want to forget. I NEVER want to forget what has happened to me - none of it. Good or bad. I can't imagine what it would be like to see a dear friend and not know them. To not be able to share a joke or a knowing look. In the story, the main character even forgets her children. She wakes up and is a stranger in her own life.
I feel like it hits close to home, not just because I am a visceral reader, (I have some of the worst book hangovers you can imagine.) but because someone near to me has early-onset Alzheimer's. Before our eyes, he's becoming a shell of who he was before. He's angry and frustrated that he can't remember things sometimes, and others, well, he can't remember that he can't remember. It's hard to watch. To be a part of. To wonder when we will slip away like dates and faces and signing your name and the reasons why you started things...
I wouldn't wish forgetting on anyone.
Are there painful things in my memories? Of course. Do I ruminate on them, turning them over and over and rubbing the sharp edges away? Yeah. I do that a lot. Do I want to forget them? Absolutely not. Not one of them. Not the things that you would find shocking. Not the things that would make you worry about me, ask if I was okay now. I take these "bad" things out and thumb through them like the pages of a photo album - recognizing myself in them, the feelings from them coated in nostalgia.
They're who I was.
I wouldn't be who I am without them.
I am sappy and sentimental, but I also recognize that my life is built of all of the memories and events before today, not just the ones that make funny stories and beautiful photographs. Some of the bricks in my foundation are rotten and ugly, but I'd never risk everything crumbling around me to remove them.
I can't - won't - forget.
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| Don't you forget about me... | (source) |
Excellent post! Forgetting is a terrifying prospect indeed.
ReplyDeleteThank you for writing. Thank you for sharing. Really. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteI agree the fate of forgetting is a painful one. I was looking for a quote yesterday (which I did not find) that pointed out that to re-member involves bringing back together that which was dis-membered. Memory allows us to be and feel in tact, whole and real. You have captured that importance so eloquently here. Thank you.
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