I watched her twindling away and looking at my young son and calling him her own. The Alzheimer’s had eaten away at her memory and instead of seeing my dad as her son she saw her great grandson as her “Little- Lenny”.
I thought watching her memories fade would be harder for me. But it wasn’t. Then, I felt cold and even dead for not finding it anything more than amusing. Seeing her forget became interesting, and even laughable. I don’t cope well. I never have, so when she called to argue about the date or would call my grandpa an old pervert who had stolen her husband’s wallet I couldn’t help but laugh.
When she came to me concerned that the mirror was broken because it sometimes showed her an old lady instead of her young self I listened intently and wondered how much of what we see is real and what is simply distorted by our memories and time.
There is a lot in my life that I would love to forget. I think part of me envied that. Envy is a big word but that’s how I felt. Why are the strong turned weak, those who want to remember everything robbed of their memories and those who long for death seemingly trapped within the confines of life?