She talks to me like I am a stranger. She remembers my mother, but she doesn’t remember me. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t talk her out of it.
I showed her a picture of my wedding. She was my Matron of Honor, but no spark. Well, a little spark, she said, “Boy was I young!” That’s it. That was all.
I told her the story of our most fun day and how we laughed until we cried, nothing, not even a little spark. She looked at me puzzled as if to say why is this crazy woman telling me these stories.
Yes, I wanted something from her that she was not able to give me. At first, I was in denial. I said to myself, “It’s been a long time since we talked, so maybe she is forgetful, but she will remember after a while.” But she hasn’t remembered, and I’m losing hope that she ever will. Our time together is hidden in a vault that not only can’t she open, she doesn’t know the vault exists.
No, I don’t know how to feel. I look at her and I remember the year we met. I was sixteen and she was twenty-three. I had come from a small rural town in Northeast Louisiana to visit the big city for the summer. None of the girls in the neighborhood who were my age befriended me, (I sounded different), but she took the time to talk to me. I suppose my drama sounded small, even trivial to her because she was a married woman with a child. But she still took the time to listen to me.
The year was 1963. It wasn’t a time when white women befriended and hung out with black girls, but she did that. That was the year of the March on Washington. We watched Dr. King make his famous “I have a dream” speech together. I don’t remember what we talked about that day, but we watched it.
How could she not remember? She did really silly things with me, things that a sixteen-year-old wanted to do. We laughed and giggled and just hung out. So, what I will do is hold the memories dear to my heart.
This experience has made me think about my memory. I’ve started leaving crumbs for my children to gather in my writing and journaling. I am finding my peace this way with this devastating illness.
