I remember crying silent but painful tears in the back seat of someone’s car… we were running an errand for the memorial service and barely above a whisper, I asked, “What if I forget…” they too began to weep with me. Finally, they cleared their throat to answer, “You’ll always have your memories.” 

I find that statement less than accurate. Because, for me, it sort of feels like the past 20 months have been a downhill battle for my memory. I fight. I fight hard to remember… to recall things we did, things he said, how it felt… But no matter how hard I try, I feel as thought I’m losing just a little as each month passes. There’s so much I can no longer recall… and even more that I don’t even know that I’ve forgotten until the need to remember hits me like bricks.

September marks the final days I was able to spend with David before he deployed yet again. Last September I went crazy trying to remember what we did the day before I dropped him off… I went into panic mode. I looked through journals – nothing. I looked at old calendars – nothing. And I looked through bank statements. I tried so desperately to piece together our final hours. I couldn’t believe I had let myself forget. I still can’t completely recall how we spent that day… but I can clearly replay how we spent that night… in each other’s arms.

This September… the desperation isn’t there… today, my nails aren’t scratching at the door of memories. I think this time around, my hope isn’t in the memories itself but in the “knowing” that there are memories. I know we were together. I know he remembers :). This morning, I woke up replaying our last vacation with my family in my head… there was a gap in the memory… but instead of beating myself with a memory stick I decided that when my memory fails me I’ll just bask in what I could remember.

“The existence of forgetting has never been proved: We only know that some things don’t come to mind when we want them.”

~Friedrich Nietzsche