Memory is such a strange thing sometimes. My father, in his dementia, remembered incidents from the far past, whether accurately or not, I don’t know. He recalled people who had died and thought they were still alive; he tried to visit them and got lost. I had to take his car away, which was sad. But then he began trying to walk to their homes (that didn’t exist) and I had to place him into a safer living situation. When I was driving him to the new house, he asked me if we were in Canada.
I remember certain events, conversations, feelings from ages ago too, and I don’t know if my recollections are true. That bothers me. Sometimes I can confirm them with my girls or others, but most of the time there is no one who can verify or dispute my memories. I have no siblings or cousins or even friends who go back far enough. What if a whole event didn’t even happen and I’ve based other decisions or feelings on it? All these stories…
Then there’s this crazy lockdown year. I’ve experienced the time fog that many have described, where the days pass slowly, in mostly the same limbo of nothingness, and it feels like last March was years ago. It’s hard to recall what I did last week, last summer, last spring. Things seem near and far both, just out of reach. When did I read or watch something? What did I say on the phone to so and so? All the mental landmarks we use to help us remember have been wiped away. Emotional touchstones have disappeared for me now. I can’t say oh I know this happened on such and such a day because I was at game night or we were having dinner at a particular restaurant. Nope. None of that. All gone.
I wonder when my memory will go back to “normal,” or if such a thing is even possible anymore.
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